Page 154 of Vicious Is My Throne

Pride shone in the mage’s brown eyes. “Fatal to an Old God. Once that blade pierces Corvus, nothing will save him. We made sure of that. However…”

He nervously traced the cover of the book in front of him. “There is something I must show you. A truth I kept hidden because I wasn’t sure you could be trusted. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Without another word, Bexley turned and walked out.

We followed him to a basement hewn from the bedrock, past cobweb-draped rooms that could have been dungeon cells, along a dank corridor ending in a solid cast iron door. Every square inch was covered in that nulling metal—the intricate hinges, the emblem of the three goddesses, even the complicated lock which resembled a handprint melted into the metal.

Cobwebs hung in thick sheets from the ceiling, and so much dust clogged the air, I doubted anyone had been down here in centuries.

“Place your hand in that depression,” Bexley instructed Anaria, “and the door will open.”

Every single instinct prickled, and I swallowed, meeting Zor’s eyes.

Her hand looked so delicate against the aged, blackened metal, but deep within the door I heard a series of clicks followed by a raspy metallic groan, then the door clicked open.

“I’ll go in first,” I murmured, finally close enough to run my hand down her back, cup her chin, and peer into her eyes. “Hey. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when I should have been,” I told her softly. “You had us all scared.”

Her lips quirked. “Yeah, well, you scared me more. Kicking monster arse and taking names. I like your style,” she teased, grinning as I stepped toward that choking darkness.

“Stop right there,” Bexley shouted, his voice high and thin. “Only Anaria can go inside. No one else will survive the ward.” Bex wrung his hands together, and I pulled Anaria back, away from that dark opening that now seemed far more threatening than it had a few seconds ago.

Everyone adjusted their positions, leaving Bexley surrounded by four pissed-off, nervous, overprotective males.

“What the fuck has you so jumpy tonight, Bex?” I asked softly, putting myself between the mage and Anaria.

With his wings raised, Zor positioned himself directly behind the mage. Tavion lounged halfway down the corridor looking for all the world like he was only half-paying attention, when in reality, he was one second away from shifting into his wolf and going absolutely feral.

“I’m not…” Bexley’s dishwater brown eyes skimmed between us, filling with doubt and fear. “It’s only…you will be very angry with me, I think, when you discover what is inside this room.”

“What are you hiding, Bex?” Zor asked softly. “You’d better start talking, because in case you can’t tell, we are all very much on edge right now.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” The mage had the audacity to look offended. “I’ve never even been inside that room, but if my suspicions are correct, behind that door is a portal to Stormfall.”

“Well, I’m not standing around debating. I’m going in.” Before I could grab her, Anaria was through the door, the faint whoosh of the ward falling accompanied by a rush of ice-cold air blurring past us and disappearing down the corridor.

“There, the room is perfectly safe.” She waved us in. “No scary monsters.” The room was a sphere, less than twelve paces across, the seamless walls polished to such a mirror-like finish, we were reflected along every wall. Anaria approached the…portal, which was more like a gleaming crystal pillar with a glowing light suspended above the reflective surface.

“What exactly is this place?” Anaria leaned close enough her nose almost touched that humming glow, and I fought the urge to yank her back. She looked over her shoulder at Bexley. “This doesn’t look like any portal I’ve ever seen.”

The mage shrugged, reaching out to touch her arm, but jerked his hand back when I growled softly. “I imagined a doorway, but this appears to work differently.”

We’d all crammed into the tiny space, careful not to touch the pillar, or that glowing globe, or to jostle Anaria, who was entirely too close. I ran a hand down the reflective wall. This room was constructed from the same dark granite as Stormfall.

The stones even smelled like the fortress, seeped with ancient cruelty and cold.

“Hello?” Anaria cocked her head, peering into the orb. “I think…I think I see movement inside there. Shadows.”

I shifted my feet, every instinct on high alert, and beside me, Zorander did the same. Tristan moved closer to the mage, Tavion stepping directly behind Anaria, prepared to snatch her away. “Are we sure this leads to Stormfall and not somewhere else?”

I drew my knife from my scabbard. “Bexley, where does this portal go?”

If wringing your hands was an expression, that’s what was written all over the mage’s face. “This has to lead to Stormfall. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.” He frowned, muttering to himself, “But what if this wasn’t a portal, per se, but merely a means of communication?”

“The Wynters would have needed a way to keep the High Priestess informed of their progress without arousing the Fae King’s suspicions.” Tavion looked like a ghost, bathed by that white glow. “An undetectable means of communication makes far more sense.”

“So you can talk through this?” Anaria breathed. “What sort of magic does that?”

“Anaria?”

We all took a healthy step back as Bella’s voice echoed hollowly out of the light, before the glow dimmed enough for a cloudy image to solidify inside the globe. “You found the Vitreglobe. We didn’t think the device still worked. The Wynters should have destroyed it.”

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