Page 262 of Kingdom of Ash

Erawan’s tomb—directly beneath Morath. The site where Elena andGavin trapped him, and then built the keep atop the sarcophagus that could not be moved.

Where all this mess had begun. Where, centuries later, his father had claimed he and Perrington ventured in their youth, using the Wyrdkey to unlock both door and sarcophagus, and unwittingly freed Erawan.

The demon king had seized the duke’s body. His father …

Dorian’s heart raced as he passed collar after collar, around and around the room. Erawan hadn’t needed one to contain his father, not when the man possessed no magic in his veins.

Yet Erawan had said that the man hadn’t bowed—not wholly. Had fought him for decades.

He hadn’t let himself think on it this past week. On whether his father’s final words atop the glass castle had indeed been true. How he’d killed him, without the excuse of the collar to justify it.

His head pounded as he continued to circle the tomb. The collars leaked their unholy stench into the world, pulsing in time with his blood.

They seemed to sleep. Seemed to wait.

Did a prince lurk within each one? Or were these shells, ready to be filled?

Kaltain had warned him of this chamber. This place where Erawan would bring him, should he be caught. Why Erawan had chosen this place to store his collars … Perhaps it was a sanctuary, if such a thing could exist for a Valg king. Where Erawan might come to gaze upon the method of his own imprisonment, and remind himself that he would not be contained again. That he’d use these collars to enslave those who’d attempt to seal him back into the sarcophagus.

Dorian’s magic thrashed, impatient and frantic. Was there a collar in here designated for him? For Aelin?

Around and around, he flew past the sarcophagus and the collars. No sign of the key.

He knew how the collars would feel against his skin. The icy bite of the Wyrdstone.

Kaltain had fought it. Destroyed the demon within.

He could still feel the weight of his father’s knee digging into his chest as he’d pinned him to the marble floor in a glass castle that no longer existed. Still feel the slick stone of the collar against his neck as it sealed. Still see Sorscha’s limp hand as he tried to reach for her one last time.

The room spun and spun, his blood throbbing with it.

Not a prince, not a king.

The collars reached for him with invisible, clawing fingers.

He was no better than them. Had learned to enjoy what the Valg prince had shown him. Had shredded apart good men, and let the demon feed off his hate, his rage.

The room began to eddy, spiraling, dragging him into its depths.

Not human—not entirely. Perhaps he didn’t want to be. Perhaps he would stay in another form forever, perhaps he’d just submit—

A dark wind snapped through the room. Snatched him in its gaping maw and dragged him.

He thrashed, screaming silently.

He wouldn’t be taken. Not like this, not again—

But it hauled him away from the collars. Under the door and out of the room.

Into the palm of a pale hand. Dark, depthless eyes peered down at him. An enormous red mouth parted to reveal bone-white teeth.

“Stupid boy,” Maeve hissed. The words were a thunderclap.

He panted, the gnat’s body shaking from wingtip to wingtip. One press of her finger and he’d be gone.

He braced himself, waiting for it.

But Maeve kept her palm open. And as she began to walk down the hall, away from the sealed chamber, she said, “What you felt in there—that is why I left their world.” She gazed ahead, a shadow darkening her face. “Every day, that was what I felt.”

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