Page 13 of The Legacy of Ophelia
“Okay, I’ll go along with this,” he conceded, though uncertainty still creased his brow. “But that doesn’t answer one thing. Why does he need you?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed, striding to the window and gazing out; the Northern Quarter was shadowed by a dark gray sky. “There’s more we need to uncover. I’m sure he’ll show his hand eventually.” A chill worked down my spine as Echnid’s words wound through my head, the promises he tried to seduce me with. “I imagine there are worse things coming. We need to warn our friends.”
“He’s taken all the Mystique ink,” Malakai reminded me.
I perked up, smiling over my shoulder. “That’s not the only way.”
Chapter Six
Tolek
I toldyou I would tear apart every realm to get you back. I meant it, apeagna.
I tossed the scrap of parchment over the nearest mystlight, the pale flame flickering in a brass holder in the center of the breakfast table. But like the last dozen, the paper only burned in the heat. Voices floated through the room, but I tuned them out as the last of the message withered. Until nothing but a charred sliver remained.
With a groan, I dropped my head back against my chair, not caring about any of the fresh fruit or variations of porridge spread across the table. The azure tiles of the mosaic ceiling stared down, mocking me where they swirled in their abstract design. Everything in the Soulguider Chancellor, Meridat’s, manor home was bright, lit by the desert sun leaking lazily through high arches. In the afternoons, when the heat laid thick against our skin, the staff lowered wicker shades in every room and walkway, but now, mid-morning, they let in the still-cool air.
The dining room was fit for a party of dozens of warriors, with six wide arches lining either side and a grand entrance at one end. It’s heavy bronze-and-turquoise-inlaid doors werepropped open, Soulguiders drifting back and forth beyond. And while it was extravagant, the light flecking that mosaic ceiling and streaking the amethyst chandeliers was too brilliant for the losses we’d suffered. Even the airy, soft tunics Meridat had provided weren’t heavy enough.
I wanted to fuckingfeel.
It had been a week since those mountains—since I lost them. We’d come here with Erista when we left the theater, accepting an invitation to stay at the Soulguider Chancellor’s personal manor in the capital city for as long as we needed. But how was I supposed to focus on something as benign as breakfast conversation when a deranged god hadtakenOphelia and my sister had died?
Though it was healed, the tattoo across my back burned as if in agreement, the wings wrapping feathered tips around my ribs and shoulders both holding me up and chaining me. How were Ophelia’s wings? How long had she bled from those wounds? Did Echnid help her?
I swore to every damn Angel in his domain, I’d slaughter him if he let her suffer.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I pushed upright and grabbed my pen. I had to keep trying.
But when the next slip of parchment singed to ash, Vale asked softly from across the table, “No luck?”
“Wherever they are, Mystique ink can’t reach them.” I swallowed that truth I hadn’t wanted to admit, because I knew damn well it meant she was further than I hoped.
Cypherion’s conversation with Meridat faltered, but attempting to be a proper, attentive ruler, he resumed discussing the Rites of Dusk with the Chancellor. Since Ophelia freed Echnid, the discordant ritual used to restore Soulguider magic hadn’t occurred again. Despite the power that flooded Gallantiaand the obvious shift in warrior strength and senses, it appeared life went on as normal.
Barrett, Dax, and Celissia had returned to Engrossian territory to address the small sparks of rebellion against Prince Barrett’s approaching coronation, and our new potential fae allies were residing in Xenovia with us. Though, they were sequestered to the guest house on Meridat’s land, guarded by a Soulguider patrol at all hours.
Yes, it certainly appeared not much had changed.
“Echnid is a god,” Jezebel lamented. “He could have taken Ophelia and Malakaianywhere.” Beside me, she picked morosely at the orange slices on her plate. Even Baby Alabath wasn’t eating much.
“He didn’t take them just anywhere,” Santorina said, striding into the dining room. “They’re in Damenal.”
Jezebel dropped her fork. Vale, Cypherion, and Meridat all fell silent.
My chair scraped against tile as I shot up. “What do you mean?”
Rina’s chiffon skirt swished as she approached the table and dumped a small shell in the center of it. “I was up all night communicating with them. Echnid took them to the Revered’s Palace. He’s commandeered it. Only the Angels are allowed in or out.”
“Why haven’t we heard any of this from the Mystique Council?” CK asked, pushing up with his palms braced on the table. I only watched that shell that now held my entire world.
Of course. Santorina and the human training camps were using these Godsblessed Seawatcher shells to communicate basic messages. She’d given one to Ophelia before everything went to hell that night in the mountains. When we’d separated within the Gates of Angeldust to seek out the seventh and final Angel emblem, Ophelia had it in her pocket.
“Echnid is blocking Mystique ink in and out of the city,” I guessed, a small bead of hope daring to bloom in my chest.
“That makes sense,” Vale agreed. “It links back to the mountains. He can likely prohibit it from working.”
Rina nodded, tension framing her shoulders. “He took all the ink from the palace, too.”
