She twisted and wove between columns of stone, gliding over stalagmites and ducking under stalactites that seemed to appear from nowhere in the darkness. She felt them more than saw them—the way the air around her body changed as she flew close to the rock. She had been lucky so far, a few near misses, but whatever force was guiding her seemed to be keeping her from smacking into the cavern walls and out of the grasp of her evil clones.
If only they would collide with something solid. That would be helpful. Her injured wing was holding out, but for how long, she didn’t know. Abby had no idea where she was or where she was headed—the Daughters of Mercy had every advantage in that regard. She was in their home.
The cavern could not stretch on forever, and that was a problem. Eventually, she would run out of room to fly. She could feel a sense of the walls growing narrower, pressing in on her body. She didn’t think the sensation was a case of claustrophobia talking. She was sure what she was experiencing was real. The Daughters chasing her were funneling her into some kind of narrow passage—she would soon be trapped.
Maybe she could survive if she could find some kind of side tunnel—some hole small enough for her to squeeze into, where her pursuers couldn’t reach her. Somewhere she could hide until David had the opportunity to kill them all and get her out of here. He would come for her—she refused to entertain the thought that the Daughters had killed him. If he were dead, she would feel it, and what she felt was that he was very much alive.
There, ahead—there was some kind of gleam, piercing the darkness. It was a tiny circle of bright light, growing larger by the second. She hardly dared to believe it, but sure enough, there it was. There was a hole in the rock wall—the daylight shining through drew her forward on its beams. She could just fit, and the Daughters wouldn’t be able to follow.
Abby burst through the hole into the vivid blue of a cobalt sky. Then she saw the line on the horizon where the sky bled red, and her wings failed her. After that, there was only the falling.
“Stop,” Malden ordered.
Jon froze—he had managed to protect Marisol and Cael from the other Blood Shadows, but this one had evaded his sword. Jon felt a sense of despair. Of all the nasty monsters in Cai Terenmare, why did Malden have to be the one to get past him?
The creature had Marisol in his grasp, one long, razor-sharp claw resting against her throat. Jon could see a scarlet bead form on her skin as Malden exerted pressure. “The girl comes with me,” he purred, a smug grin on his ruined face. “We have unfinished business, don’t we, mija?”
The creature began to drag her across the sand, back to where Lucia stood flanked by her bodyguards. Jon saw Marisol’s eyes widen in terror, and in an instant, a number of things became crystal clear to him. Marisol had told him she had been plagued by horrible nightmares as a child. This monster was one of her bad dreams come true, her own personal Kruorumbrae bogeyman.
Malden was obsessed with her, and he meant to take her away so he would be free to abuse her without the risk of interruption. He wouldn’t kill her. No, she would live, but some things are worse than death. Jon would die before he let that happen.
Bargaining with Malden was pointless—the creature had what he desired. Jon took his appeal straight to the top. “Lucia, please. Take me instead. You must have a hostage, and next to the c’aislingaer, I’m the Solas Beir’s closest confidant. The girl is nothing.”
The tall, burly Shadow at Lucia’s side spoke up. “Why would we take hostages when we could kill you all now? Tierney would reward us well for ending the Solas Beir.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Jon said, not breaking eye contact with Lucia. “He could have easily killed us when we were in the Eastern Oracle’s court. But he didn’t, because he doesn’t want a war any more than the Eastern Oracle does. Tierney has something bigger in mind, and he doesn’t want the Solas Beir dead just yet. He needs the Solas Beir to endorse his plan and sway the people to his side. Doesn’t he?”
Lucia studied him silently. What was going on behind those dark eyes of hers? Was that a spark of recognition? Perhaps Tierney had been keeping something from her as well.
“Look,” Jon continued, “the Solas Beir is busy at the moment, but when he’s done with those Daughters, he’ll come for you. You know he will. Let’s avoid more bloodshed. Take me and walk away.”
“Very well,” Lucia said, narrowing her eyes. “Malden, release the girl.”
Malden glared at Jon, and Jon wondered if the creature would comply. After a moment, the thing released his hold on Marisol, and she flew to Jon’s arms.
“Jon, no. Please don’t do this,” Marisol begged.
Jon stared into her eyes and forced a brave smile. “I have to—I won’t let that thing hurt you ever again. I love you, Sol.” He felt a lump in his throat. “I wish I’d said that before now.”
He held her tightly and gave her a kiss, realizing it would be their last. Once Lucia showed up with him instead of the Solas Beir, he would die. Of that, he had no doubt.
“I love you too. I promise—we’ll come for you. I can’t lose you. I can’t.” Marisol kissed him hard, refusing to let him go.
One for the road, Jon thought, feeling her warm tears trickle down her cheeks as she kissed him. He gently pushed her away, back toward Cael. “Go,” he whispered, “before Lucia changes her mind.”
Marisol gave him a last look and ran across the sand to Cael. Jon turned to the tall Shadow who had spoken and offered his hands, so the creature could shackle him. “I’m ready,” he told Lucia.
She nodded, her face impassive. “Back to the city.”
Jon saw her shoot Malden a warning look as he moved closer, intending to inflict pain as payment for the loss of his prize. Malden backed away, but Jon got the message loud and clear: first opportunity, you die.
David hovered in front of the Eye of the Needle. Centered at the top of the cave’s entrance was another symbol. It was similar to the one at the bottom of the spire, the winged woman enclosed in a circle, but this time the woman was absent. In this carving, the circle itself had wings.
“It used to refer to the righteousness of the Light,” Erela said solemnly, floating beside him, “but the symbol no longer bears the same meaning for the Daughters of Mercy. My sisters have forgotten the path of the just.”
David nodded and silently entered the cave, holding his hand out in front of him, palm up. A blue flame formed and flickered on his palm, illuminating the darkness. The air in the cavern was thick and acrid; he could feel it pressing down on him, threatening to choke him, to extinguish his light.
There was a noise emanating from the cavern’s depths. It sounded like wings, but with the echo reverberating off the walls, it was difficult to tell if the sound came from one pair or many. David flew down the passage with Erela at his side.
The sound was all around them now. A pair of Daughters emerged from the darkness. Erela quickly ended one, and David set fire to the other. As the Daughter was consumed by the blue light, David saw something small and white at the far end of the passage. Against the blackness of the cavern walls, it almost glowed.
“Abby?” he called. He flew to her, but found only the smallest trace of his white raven. It was a single feather, lying on the floor of the passage. There was blood on it.
“Oh, Abby, no,” he whispered. He picked up the feather and carefully tucked it into his shirt, next to the Sign of the Throne.
He heard the rustle of feathers behind him. He whirled around. “Abby?”
There was nothing. Then he heard the sound echoing from somewhere above him. Whatever was up there was masked by an inky blackness his light could not penetrate.
“Above you, Solas Beir!” Erela shouted. She did not know if this Daughter of Mercy had been lying in wait or had managed to sneak past them in the darkness, but she had promised the queen she would keep the Solas Beir safe. She fully intended to keep that promise. She raced toward him.
The Daughter crouching upside-down
on the ceiling was wearing the c’aislingaer’s face. Her eyes were dark, empty—dead.
“What have you done with her?” David demanded.
The Daughter didn’t answer. She simply gazed down at the Solas Beir with those soulless eyes and smiled wickedly, licking her lips. Her muscles were tense and her wings extended, the feathered tips almost touching either wall of the passage. She had the Solas Beir in her sights, and by the look on her face, she planned to rip out his throat.
The Daughter dropped from the ceiling.
“Die!” David cried out, and the thing burst into flames. Bits of ash fell into his hair, and he brushed them away absently.
He flew to the end of the corridor, but there was no sign of Abby. The passage ended in a solid stone wall. He placed his palms against the rock—the surface was cold, unyielding.
“Abby was here—I know she was. But I can’t feel her anymore. I can’t feel her at all.” Defeated, he rested his forehead on the wall between his hands. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt hollow, numb.
Erela gently put her hand on his shoulder. It was an uncharacteristically compassionate gesture. Surprised, David turned to look at her.
“Come, Solas Beir,” Erela said softly. “She is gone. We must help the others.”
Resigned, David nodded and followed Erela out of the cave.
On the ground below, he could see his friends inside a semicircle of dead Shadows. Marisol was on her knees, tending to Cael.
As David landed on the sand beside her, Marisol looked up. “Where’s Abby?”
David shook his head—he couldn’t speak. He dropped down beside Marisol and pushed her hands away from Cael’s wound.
“No, David,” Cael said. “It is too much for you. If you take my wound, you will die.”
“I don’t care,” David growled. He let the power flow from his hands. He winced as he felt a burst of heat in his own abdomen. He looked down to see blossoms of red soaking his shirt, just below the tip of the feather tucked inside. It was good to feel pain—it felt right somehow. It anchored him, kept him from falling into the black hole that appeared every time he pictured Abby’s face.
Marisol stared at David, a pinched look on her face. She got up and went over to the remaining bolts of fabric by the portal. “We’ve got two of these left. The Shadows destroyed the ones we left on the horses, and I wrecked the other one bandaging Cael. So what’s it going to be? Green or purple?”
David pointed at the deep violet cloth. “Better give me that one to bleed on. After seeing the courtesan in the Eastern Oracle’s court, the last thing I want is to see my mother wearing a purple wedding dress.”
“All right.” Marisol knelt down to bind his wound.
David watched her unroll the fabric from the spindle and wind it around his waist. He sucked in his breath as she pulled it taut over the wound, biting his lip against the pain. Marisol stopped and studied his face, and he nodded for her to continue. “Where’s Jon?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Marisol avoided his eyes and focused on tying a knot to secure the cloth. “He went with Lucia—he offered himself up to save me from Malden.” Her eyes were shiny with the tears she was struggling to hold in.
David felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He imagined how Abby would have felt about Jon being captured. The void he felt from losing her threatened to swallow his sanity. He had failed her completely. But if he couldn’t save Abby, he would at least save Jon. He placed his hand on Marisol’s arm. “I’m sorry, Sol. We will get him back.” He tested the bandage, straining against it slightly. His abdomen throbbed with pain, but the wrapping was nice and tight. “Just give me a few minutes to heal.”
“You will need more than a few minutes to heal from that wound,” Erela said, eyeing his injury. “And the boy will be heavily guarded. We would be fools to try to rescue him now.”
David peered up at Erela. She looked like a stone statue towering over him, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t let him die,” he pleaded. “Abby…Abby wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Marisol said nothing, but took his hand in hers. The sadness in her eyes matched the grief in his heart.
“Abby would want you to heal,” Cael said softly, standing and unwrapping the soiled cloth binding his torso. “And so would Jon.”
David felt rage blaze in his chest. “What Abby wanted was for me to go after the little girl they took. And I said no, that we’d have to come back for her later. If I’d done what Abby wanted, she would still be here with me.”
“Then your other friends might have died,” Erela stated, uncrossing her arms. “And you might have been captured in the city and lost her anyway. There is no way to know what might have been.”
Cael placed his hands on David’s shoulders. “The best way to honor Abby now would be to go home, gather reinforcements, and return to rescue Jon and the girl.”
“All right,” David sighed. “We’ll go home. We’ll get organized.” He looked at Marisol. “And then we will come back, and we won’t stop fighting until Jon and the girl are safe and we’ve freed every last courtesan. Are you with me?”
“To the end,” Marisol said, squeezing his hand. Her eyes were still sad, but now David saw purpose in them.
“To the very end,” Cael agreed, and Erela nodded her assent. “But for now, I will carry you west.” He slipped into his wolf form as Marisol and Erela lifted David to his feet.
Marisol salvaged a saddle and wiped it clean of equine blood. “I hope you don’t mind, Cael,” she said, slipping it over his back. “It’s just that if David moves around too much, the wound will start bleeding again.”
Cael didn’t seem to object, so Marisol and Erela eased David into the saddle. Then Marisol went to see what other supplies she could salvage. There wasn’t much, just a little food and a cask of water. After she transferred provisions from the others’ packs into hers, she strapped the last bolt of fabric to her pack.
“We will trade off carrying you until you can fly again,” Erela said to David.
“What about Marisol?” he asked. “She can’t walk across the entire desert.”
Erela looked surprised. “True. She can fly with me and scout ahead. My apologies, Solas Beir—I had forgotten she was human.”
“It’s all right,” Marisol said, adjusting the pack on her shoulders. “I’ve gotten used to being in the minority around here.”
Erela turned to her. “Do not think I forgot out of a bias against humans. I forgot because you fought valiantly today. You fought as one of us.”
“Thanks,” Marisol said, unsure how to respond to this new, softer side of Erela. To hide her embarrassment, she turned to David. “Here—drink this.” She handed the cask to David, and then offered a drink to the others.
Cael didn’t reply, but Erela shook her head. “Save it for yourself. You and the Solas Beir will need it more than Cael and me.”
Marisol took a sip and secured the cask to her pack. “Well, if you change your mind, just ask.” She slipped the straps of the pack back over her shoulders.
Erela shook her head again. “No, my friend, we have a long journey ahead, and if that is all the water there is, you must conserve it.”
“I may be able to do something about that, once I’m better,” David offered.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, David. We’ll be fine for now, as long as we get moving.” Marisol took Erela’s outstretched hand, and the former Daughter of Mercy lifted her into the sky.
Chapter Fourteen
THE BARREN
Upon their return to the city, what was left of Lucia’s army assembled outside the tall, imposing doors leading to the court of the Eastern Oracle.
“Take the boy to the dungeon,” Lucia commanded the Kruorumbrae holding Jon’s chains. The guard nodded assent and escorted Jon down the hall. Malden started forward, intending to follow them. “No,” Lucia said. “If you lay one finger on the prisoner, I will kill you myself. Now, get lost.”
Malden hissed at her. Not if I kill you first, dearie, he thought. He had been so close to having the girl all to himself, but Lucia had brought an end to his plans. The least she could do to make up for it would be to let him devour the boy.
Lucia narrowed her dark eyes and raised her hand. A bright blue orb formed on her palm. “Do not tempt me,” she warned. “I am in no mood for your insolence.”
Malden glared at her and scuttled away. Later, sweetness, he thought. You can’t protect him forever.
Lucia watched Malden run off in the direction of the palace’s entrance, vanishing as he rounded the corner. The little wretch had grown bold. Perhaps she should have brought him to his knees to remind him of his place. She thought about calling him back and then reconsidered. The Eastern Oracle was conducting a meeting. If she could hear voices coming from inside the courtroom, those within would be able to hear Malden’s squeals of agony. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene. Not here.
Lucia covered her head with her veil and nodded to the guards to open the doors. She quietly slipped inside the Eastern Oracle’s court, and the guards discreetly closed the doors behind her. The Eastern Oracle sat on his throne, and Tierney stood beside him, just in front of the dais. They had a visitor.
The sea hag’s long, black-and-white banded tail wound in lazy curves around the room; the paddled tip nearly reached the door. Lucia noted a raw wound near the end of the tail—red, swollen stripes, like something had recently sunk white-hot claws into the lamia’s scaly flesh, burning it, branding it.
Lucia had seen that kind of wound before. If she was right about the source of the injury, that wound was never going to heal. The sea hag would be forever marked. Lucia stepped carefully around the lamia’s tail and walked the perimeter of the ornate rug to stand silently under the arches on one side of the room.
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