Page 32 of Merciless Is My Crown

All of them heading one direction. West.

“Do we have a different sort of monster to contend with now, or did they all die once the magic faded away?” Our shelter of trees was far enough from the road we wouldn’t be overheard, but still, Zor kept his voice down.

“Hard to say, and I don’t expect we’ll get any answers.” I cracked my sweaty, stiff neck and shoulders, already strained from travel, and we still had a long way to go. “Not here, at least. The rumors and lies circulating will only get wilder.”

“Most of them won’t survive long past the wall.” Zorander’s eyes followed the line of refugees, stumbling blindly toward their doom. “Fuck, most won’t make it to the wall.”

“You saved those brothers, at least,” I reminded him, trying not to look at the children holding their parents’ hands so trustingly. “But we can’t save them all, Zor.”

How many times had we said those same godsdamned words over the years? Can’t save the soldiers. Can’t save the survivors. Can’t save our friends.

Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

I took another pull of strong, potent wine, then wiped my mouth, exhaustion turning my bones heavy. “So. All you’ve told us so far is two jumps to Storm Watch, then we cross the shoals to Darkhold.” Zor subtly nudged my boot, and I ignored him. He might be willing to go on faith, but my trust in Torin was tenuous, at best, and I didn’t know Simon at all.

“What should we expect once we’re there? I heard the island is abandoned. Is that true?”

“I don’t know.” The fact Torin uttered those words with not an ounce of guile sent another shiver through me. Bad enough Zor and I were walking into this blind, I expected her and Simon to at least know what we’d be facing.

Simon looked between us and sighed, holding out his hand. I pressed the bottle of wine into his palm, and he took a long draw as if he needed liquid courage.

Fuck, maybe we all did.

“What Torin means to say is, we haven’t been there for three hundred years. The night we left, Zephryn had been imprisoned beneath his mountain by the Oracle. She’d killed his father, and his kingdom was tearing itself to pieces. We don’t know what’s left. If anything.”

I blew out a low whistle. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak, shifter. When you say his kingdom, you mean Zephryn’s realm?”

“No, I mean Zeph would have been king of Darkhold if the Oracle hadn’t found us.” Simon raked his hand through his hair. “Perhaps…let me start at the beginning. Three centuries ago, Torin had one of her visions, but this one…wasn’t like any she’d had before. She foresaw Carex losing his magic and dying at Anaria’s hand. We tried to keep the vision a secret, but somehow the Oracle found out.”

Torin looked haunted by whatever past she was reliving. “She forced me to help put her plan in motion. I had no choice. The Oracle has ways of…trapping you so you cannot escape.”

“The Citadelle was always dangerous for Tor, but after that…” Simon’s face hardened. “The Oracle never let her victims go. She used them until there was nothing left, and we knew—Cosimo, Zeph, and me—that once she sunk her claws into Torin, she’d never release her. She was too valuable an asset. So we came up with a plan to smuggle her out of Tempeste.”

His arm tightened around her, and for maybe the first time in my life, I saw Torin as something other than the High Seer, the duplicitous architect of our fates and our fortunes.

“Zephryn never wanted to be king, never wanted anything to do with Darkhold, but for me…he agreed to wear the crown in exchange for sanctuary for Simon and me,” she whispered. “He gave up his freedom so I could have mine.”

No scent of lies, nothing on her face to indicate this was anything but the truth, and I realized Torin had every reason to help us, and a damn good reason to want the Oracle dead.

“But the plan went to shite. The Oracle killed Zeph’s father, the king, the dragons devolved into all-out war, then she locked Zephryn in a prison of obsidian and dragged us back to Tempeste. As far as Cosimo, she trapped him in a pendant that same night.” Simon leaned in, his voice devoid of emotion.

“We’ve spent every waking minute since that night working to free our friends and stay alive. Between Carex and the Oracle, Torin hasn’t been this far from Tempeste since the night we escaped to Darkhold.” His arms tightened protectively around her. “I’ve not dared go beyond the wards, and except for some vague descriptions brought back by half-mad sailors, we know nothing of what we’re walking into.”

“Except Zeph is there and we have to free him,” Torin said stubbornly, temper flashing in her eyes.

Simon nuzzled the top of her head. “Except that. We’re not deluding ourselves that there is anything left of Darkhold or the dragons. We are hoping to find one survivor,” he said quietly, his gaze turning pleading.

“If we can get Zeph out of that prison where he’s been trapped, that will be enough. At least we’ll know we’ve kept our word to him, even if it took us three hundred godsdamned years.”

14

ANARIA

The four of us stared at that glowing whirlpool of light swirling at the portal’s center and illuminating the crypt’s slanted sides, like we stood in an underwater cavern. Magic ebbed and flowed within that gleaming barrier. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear its strange song.

We dismounted cautiously, Adele scanning the strange, enchanted room with wide, fearful eyes.

Two enormous yellowed skulls dominated the space and horror slithered through me. Horror at what they were, what they represented.

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