Page 103 of In the Ravenous Dark
I freeze. “You love me?”
“Obviously, you loon. Which means, if he hurts you…” She trails off, her eyes narrowing threateningly.
I snort. “I’m already dead.”
“You know what I mean.”
My smile drops. I’ve long known that many hurts run deeper than flesh. “I do. I love you, too.” I hesitate. “Want to meet him?”
“Now?” She blinks. “Okay.”
At first, I’m amazed. But, as Ivrilos said, love isn’t finite, andLydea, Japha, and I already built a foundation for sharing. It just needs to expand a little to include Ivrilos.
I say his name, and he appears at my side instantly. I take his hand. He lets me, only raising his eyebrows slightly in surprise. Lydea steps back at his sudden appearance, but otherwise her expression is smooth. “This is Lydea. You’ve seen her before, but now you can have a true introduction. Lydea, meet Ivrilos.”
Lydea’s mouth quirks. “I would offer my hand in greeting, but…”
Ivrilos adjusts his grip in mine, layering his palm over the back of my hand. His skin is cool and firm, still surprising, and his fingers graze my knuckles in a minute caress. He lifts our hands together.
In a flash, I realize what he’s doing. Usingme, he takes Lydea’s fingers and lifts them toward his lips. He brushes her knuckles with a kiss she can’t feel. And for a moment, the three of us are holding hands, through me—a bridge between life and death.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, truly,” Ivrilos says.
Lydea looks charmed, despite herself. “I can see why she likes you. I’m not about to reconsider men, but—I can see.”
Reluctantly, I drop everyone’s hands. “If you think all of this is weird,” I say, “wait until we climb out the window.”
“What?” Lydea says flatly.
“We need to meet Japha, and we can’t go through a palace full of guards and bloodmages and guardians to do it. With any luck, Japha has convinced their father that he needs to support us against the king. And if they haven’t, maybe you can help sway Tumarq—if you want.”
“Of course,” she says, “but you still haven’t clarified the most important detail.” I wait, expecting questions about succession or Skyllea, until she says, “I’mclimbing out the window?”
I smirk. “No, I am, and we’re going to strap you to my back.” I gesture over my shoulder. “Hop on.”
31
Lydea and I skulk through the shadows alongside Ivrilos, who is currently invisible to everyone but me. After we avoid a pair of guards on patrol, I peer around a pillar across the wide expanse of courtyard between the palace, its outer wall, and the royal barracks.
This is where I’ve seen Tumarq and Penelope drilling troops. More importantly, Tumarq’s and now Penelope’s quarters are nearby, and bloodmages are unlikely to be wandering through this part of the royal grounds with their guardians, who might spot us.
To avoid the eyes of the living, I cloak us with even more shadow as we dash into an arcade-covered alley between the barracks and a storage outbuilding. Once there, our only company is a few broken sparring dummies and an empty weapon rack in need of refinishing.
“This is where Japha said they’d tell their father to meet us,” I whisper, nodding at the outbuilding. Their plan was to send a palace servant with a sealed note for Tumarq with instructions. I hope it worked.
Ivrilos steps straight through the building’s wall, and only a few moments later sticks his head back out. “They’re inside. Several guards accompanied the general, but Japha rendered them unconscious.”
So Tumarq didn’t fully trust Japha’s note telling him to come alone, even though it was written in the script of the general’s blight-swallowed homeland. Which means he might not be convinced ofotherthings, such as the fact that his king is an undead, maniacal tyrant, as well as the bringer of the blight—two things we were hoping would win Tumarq to our side.
Keeping us shrouded in shadow, I head for the door.
“You go first,” I whisper to Lydea. “I’ll keep myself hidden so he doesn’t shout while you still have the door open.”
Lydea nods and squares her shoulders. Instead of her diaphanous midnight robe, she’s now wearing something more befitting a princess about to have a discussion with her top general: a wine-colored peplos embroidered with a maze of intricate black lines and tied with a silver strophion. She marches right inside. I follow closely behind, hidden by my magic like a true guardian shadow.
The storeroom smells of wood, leather, and dust, and wall sconces cast flickering light over shelves and weapon racks. A few guards lie on training mats of woven straw. Tumarq, despite the hour, is wearing a bronze breastplate and leather pteryges over his red chiton, his arms and legs armored in bracers and greaves. At our entrance, he looks like he might shout, but when Japha raises their hand for silence and the general sees only Lydea, his princess, he grudgingly subsides.
“Japha.” Lydea rushes forward to give them a hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I didn’t know what happened to you after I left the necropolis. I never should have deserted you. I’m sorry.”
