Page 98 of An Archer's Redemption

“Efrem, our plans for the Queen have failed.Danymfailed. If I cannot have her join us willingly, I need her out of the way. Unless I miss my mark, that brother of hers should be much easier to handle. He is simple and gullible and has no ill memories of the man I was at court, unlike our current monarch.”

Efrem’s expression never wavered. His eyes never blinked. He stared and listened.

The perfect Priest, I thought.

“Do you have a preference as to method, Excellency?”

I steepled my fingers and thought a moment. “No, do what you must—but whatever you domust notbe traced back to the Order. Understood?”

“Yes, Excellency. Your will be done.”

As Efrem vanished through the golden doors, I removed the crown and cradled it in my hands. I traced a finger along its interwoven gold and silver, landing on one of the diamonds inlaid in its base. The bloodred pulse echoed through every facet of the stone, drawing me into its fearsome beauty. I wondered what the imprisoned spirit must think. Could it see or hear what went on before it? Could it even still think? Its power pulsed through the relic and into me whenever I called, yet I knew nothing of the individuals trapped within.

And I really didn’t care to.

It was more curiosity than anything.

Like my Priests, those trapped souls were merely tools, weapons to be wielded for my greater cause. And like Danym, when they failed or served no further purpose, they were dead to me.

I sat staring into the stone for long moments, lost in thoughts and plans for a world beneath my banner. For the briefest moment, as Jess’s face passed through my mind, a twinge of regret pricked my soul. We were never close. Still, she had been a child, and there were times . . .

I shrugged those thoughts off as quickly as they had arisen and chuckled at my own foolish sentimentality.

Part IV

Chapter 41

Atikus

Istared into the darkness.

What had once been the most beautiful, vibrant sight I had ever seen was now devoid of light or life. Even the residual glow of the crystals along the hallway through which I’d run as the mountain shook had begun to dim.

My head swiveled, searching for any speck of light.

“Declan? Kelså?” I cried over and over, stumbling through the darkened cavern.

The only answer was my own voice echoing through the mountain’s heart.

As I nudged my way forward, my foot caught on something jagged that shouldn’t exist where I knew smooth, transparent flooring should have lay.

I kneeled and felt with my fingers.

Sharp edges scored a line across one bony digit. Unseen blood trickled into the chamber’s gaping wound.

“Damned darkness,” I muttered, wishing for light to see how deeply I’d cut my finger.

I stumbled back as a ball of swirling, pulsing light bloomed before me. The chamber was suddenly bathed in a dim, flickering glow.

“Sweet Spirits, how—”

I looked down at the massive crack in the floor, and horror hammered in my chest.

The currents of magic I recalled drifting beneath, with their gentle mist stretching upward, now oozed like sludge, bubbling and hissing as they passed beneath the crack. It looked more like syrup or oil than a mystical spring.

A foul scent ofwrongnessprickled my nose, and I had to smother a cough in the crook of my elbow.

The glowing orb waited a few paces before me. When I moved to inspect the Well’s platform, it led the way, casting its eerie light some twenty paces in every direction. I wished for brighter light, and the ball blazed.

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