Page 221 of The Throne Seeker
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. The sound of the sea waves quieted her mind as she soaked in the beating sunlight.
She dropped her gaze down to the sword strapped to her hips. She brushed her fingers along the intricate design of roses and vines. It made her think of Zareb. She missed him terribly. She wondered where he was now, if he’d found safety in Semaria. He’d given his life to serve Cathan, and with one trespass, one mistake, he’d lost it all. All because he chose to help her.
Her heart hardened. She wished she could write to him, if only to ease her mind.
A knock came at the door, and before she could even answer, they let themselves in.
Rose didn’t need to look to recognize who those footsteps belonged to, sensing it in the dangerous way he shifted his weight—the commanding strides of a general. Only when Roman was standing beside her did she lift her eyes to meet his.
A weight lifted off both of them at the same time. The ache of his absence faded, but she could still sense the haunting sadness even as relief filled his eyes.
A smile slipped onto her lips to cheer him up. His mouth tugged upward in response as he leaned down to claim her smile, parting her lips with his. She opened without resistance, her hands gliding up his chest to encircle his neck.
“Damn, this ring does nothing,” he rumbled against her lips. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“You were gone a lot longer than a few hours,” she said pointedly.
“I know. I’m sorry.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “But there’s something I want to show you. Something you need to see.” He took her hand and urged her to follow him.
His face was all too somber, so she agreed without question.
With her hood up, Roman led her to the castle’s lower levels she’d seldom been to. The winding staircase led down… down, passing the dungeons that had held Xavier earlier that summer—a lifetime ago.
Still, they descended as the air turned cooler. Damp. Ancient.
Rose hadn’t even known the castle extended this far down.
At last, they reached the end of the staircase leading to a stretched hallway. At the end stood a weathered wooden door, beckoning them into a shadowy tunnel. Roman grasped the large torch next to the hole before entering.
A twinge of claustrophobia crept in as they pressed on. While the tunnel could easily accommodate five grown men, its curved ceilings felt uncomfortably low. Rose fought the urge to turn back, forcing one foot in front of the other, unconsciously squeezing Roman’s hand tighter.
Roman gently pressed her hand to his chest, pulling her closer. He kissed her knuckles, spreading a tingling sensation up her arm.
“Where are we going?” she asked, not knowing exactly why she whispered the question.
“The oldest structure within the castle, and maybe even Vallor itself… the royal tombs,” Roman answered.
Rose crouched to avoid a long spiderweb hanging from the ceiling. “And why would we be doing that?”
He gazed down at her. “Because the past may just help us understand the future.”
Rose wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, until she noticed roots hanging between the stones above, indicating they were no longer beneath the castle. “Where are we exactly?”
“An underground tunnel that leads to the old ruins underneath the original castle,” Roman explained.
When they finally came to the end of the tunnel, Roman took the initiative by opening another large, creaky door. Its hinges squeaked in a high pitch as it swung open.
They entered a vast, oval-shaped chamber constructed from light-gray limestone. It was well lit compared to the dreary tunnel they’d just trudged through, with torches placed every ten feet or so along the walls. The flames emitted a subtle white flame, different from the torch Roman was carrying.
She gawked at the flame. Magic. Those flames were kindled by ancient magic. Eternal flames that would never go out.
Numerous tombs surrounded her, filling every inch of the curved walls. Four arched hallways stretched between them, branching out in every direction toward what she presumed were even more tombs. Cathan’s sun symbol was carved on the archways and each tomb.
At the center stood a life-sized statue of a stout older man with an exceptionally long beard and sunken eyes. He, too, bore Cathan’s sun symbol around his neck.
“This is where they buried the kings and queens of old. Back when Cathan was first settled,” Roman said as he approached the statue in the center of the room. “This is the first king, Argarion Atticus.”
The founder of Cathan. An eerie breeze grazed her skin. “Will your parents be placed to rest here?”
