Page 56 of The Fated and the Damned
Kitarni looked at me, pain and fear swirling in those beautiful hazel eyes. “I can do this,” I said softly. “I will find the crown.”
She shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair and snarling in frustration. When she faced me again, she placed a kiss to my brow, then another to my lips, lingering there as if committing the moment to memory. “I know you can.” She pulled away, her face set in a mask of resignation. “And just know, if you don’t come back, I’m going to haunt you for all eternity.”
I offered her a crooked grin, my strength waning and vision darkening until she was just a blur and a dark silhouette
Margit nodded, then grabbed a vial from the shelf, not hesitating to grab Kitarni’s hand and slice it as gently as possible, stoppering the precious blood dripping from the cut. Kitarni said nothing. Didn’t even wince, her eyes fixed on my own, her lips twisted with worry.
When the vial was full my cousin shoved it in my pocket, along with a scrap of parchment. She began chanting in tongues, the ancient words passing from her lips raising the hairs on my arms and neck. Dark magic. Dark and forbidden, pushing the boundaries between our world and the next.
A fey wind began to gust around the room, causing my hair to ripple, books to fly from shelves, and potions and tinctures to topple, shattering on the stone.
And then I felt it … the pull of the unknown, a vast chasm that seemed to open beneath me. One minute I was lying on the table, the next I was falling, down, down, down.
To hell. And salvation.
The vortex spat me out on a snowy hill, a harsh wind ripping at my clothing, pulling at the hair on my scalp. I climbed to my feet, no longer feeling like death warmed up on a platter. I turned my hands before me, marvelling at the realness of the movement and the way the skin still held every callous and vein.
I was here, but also not. My body lay back in the Middle World, surrounded by family and a wife who would be sure to punish me when I returned.IfI returned. Despite Kitarni’s scheming, Margit and I had planned for the worst with the masquerade ball. That, if I was to be wounded—or worse, on my way to my deathbed—she would ensure it would be me to walk the depths of this vast dungeon of hell. It hadn’t made sense to make her go. Why bother when I was already bleeding out and perfectly primed for the trip?
Kitarni could hardly be too mad, given she’d planned on doing the same thing. And deep down, I think she knew how badly I needed to do this. How much I needed to prove, not just to her, but to myself that I could protect my people. That, in the end, I could do right by coven and clan.
The táltosok would be without their general if I didn’t make it back in time, but they were in good hands with Lukasz and András. My brother and my right-hand man would ensure no one stepped out of line. I just hoped it didn’t come to that. I wanted to be there beside my warrior queen, leading our people together.
I shook my head. There was little point dwelling on hope. I’d much rather be a man of action.
I looked behind me, eyes widening as I realised what I was gazing at. The door Caitlin had opened to the Under World—the gateway itself—stood proudly, stretching endlessly high into a mist that swallowed the sun and shrouded the sky.
Lightning forked with savage tongues above, thunder rumbling as the world flashed ominously. There was no light or warmth here. It was a place for the dead, and the dead received no comfort.
The door itself didn’t appear like an entry one might open or shut, but a black, rippling pool that seemed to suck in the blinding light of the contrasting snow. Two stone pillars engraved in glowing blood markings held the portal in place. I’d warrant once those glyphs went out, the portal would close and disappear.
I didn’t know how to close it just yet, but that was a problem for later. Margit was clever and had a full library at her disposal. She would figure it out. For now, I had a crown to find, hopefully without alerting Death or Fate to my presence.
I jammed my hands in my armpits to stave off the biting chill. Even though my physical form remained in the Middle World, I still felt everything keenly, all my senses about me. I trudged up the snow towards a ledge to get a better bearing on my surroundings. When I reached the top, I sucked in a deep breath. It was so much worse than I could have ever imagined.
Sprawling as far as the eye could see was a maze of black rock and stalactites jutting from the ground. And between it all … demons. Hordes of demons in varying shapes and sizes, all of them torturing, devouring, feeding on the pain and misery of the unfortunate souls trapped in this hell realm. Their screams rang out across the landscape, bouncing off the rock and echoing back to me, even above the shrill cry of the grating winds.
In the middle of the maze, perched atop a thin mountain surging towards the sky, was a castle with soaring turrets and jagged edges. On a rounded platform with no edges at the very peak, I could just make out a throne. A place to indulge in one’s power and lord over underlings. Death really was a cruel bastard, even if he did have good manners.
Setting my jaw, I set out towards the maze, determined to do my duty. I wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, the only time I’d really felt true fear was seeing Kitarni bleeding, both the first time and just moments ago, before I’d been transported here. I’d told her once that I would protect her. I’d failed.
My oath to her mother still held though, and that was to give my life for Kitarni’s. This was one promise I could uphold.
Even if I was afraid.
So very afraid of what came next.
TWENTY-SIX
Kitarni
Iclimbedthestairsout of Margit’s secret passage with a heavy heart. No, with utter emptiness where my heart should be. I’d left it there with him. My husband, my lord, my partner in all things.
The frustrating thing was, I couldn’t even blame him. How could I, when his actions proved how much he wanted to set things right? I knew he’d done this, not just for me, but for himself. To prove that he was more than his betrayal, that his love for the realm and for me was deeply profound.
I could choose to be angry at him, Margit and András, but the truth was, he’d done the very thing I had planned to. Dante had risked everything to find the crown, giving me a chance to rally our allies and save both Mistvellen and the Kingdom of Hungary. It made me furious, terrified, beyond sorrowful, but I understood his motives. I knew if we’d had that discussion, I would have fought him on it. I would have done something stupid and sneaky on my own terms. Dante was right; I was a stubborn creature.
And now there was every chance he wouldn’t come back.
