Page 90 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Atlas walked through it, with Caedian on his heels, and a tingling sensation floated over him. His skin prickled and the hairs along the back of his neck stood on end as he moved through the layers of enchantment. It was like wading through a river of honey, thick and warm, smelling heavily of citrusy woods.
Inside the room, Veros was already waiting for them. He lounged in an ebony chair, his elbow propped on the cushions, his legs stretched out before him. The Lord of Time was dressed in his court finery—sleek black pants tailored with gold thread, a crisp white button-down shirt, and he twirled the chain of histimepiece around his finger, spinning it through the air. Rozalie was there as well, perched on a crimson sofa that seemed to curve like a wave. The High Priestess watched Atlas carefully as he entered, her sharp green gaze narrowing slightly before she inclined her head in acknowledgement. Valaina was there as well, sprawled on a pile of silk floor pillows, with Davorin standing watch right behind her. His arms were crossed and his mouth was pulled into a harsh scowl, as though he’d rather be anywhere else than in the company of a fae and a witch.
“I assume there’s no need for introductions or pleasantries.” Atlas discarded his winter coat, tossing it over the back of a chair embroidered with red roses. He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves, meeting the knowing gaze of every soul in the room. “Let’s discuss what we know so far.”
“Immortals are disappearing.” Davorin canted his head to one side, the hue of golden light playing off his deep umber skin. One side of his head was shaved smooth, the rest of his hair falling in long, intricately woven twists to his shoulders. He huffed out a breath of frustration. “And Kralv Oldrich is doing nothing to stop it.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m here.” Atlas rolled his neck once, then dropped into the embroidered chair, motioning for Caedian to step forward. “Captain, how many immortals have gone missing?”
Caedian stood at attention, tucking his hands behind his back. “In the course of the past six months, twelve immortals in total. Two vampires, three witches, and seven fae.”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at his polished boots. “And those are only the ones whose absences have been noticed and reported.”
“There could be more?” Rozalie asked, twisting the large onyx ring she wore around her finger.
“Yes, High Priestess.” Caedian nodded firmly, his broad shoulders expanding with tension. “There very well could be many more. Especially when you consider the trooping and solitary fae. Not only that, but we don’t know if these disappearances are localized to Prava, or if they are more widespread.”
Widespread, meaning other kingdoms and realms…something Atlas hadn’t even considered.
“Lord Veros and I were discussing the matter, and one rather distinguishable conclusion has been drawn.” Atlas shifted in his seat, leaning his weight to one side. “All of these immortals have something in common.”
Davorin scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“Hush, Dav darling,” Valaina admonished with a wave of her slender hand. “Let the prince speak.”
Davorin glowered, his piercing gold eyes narrowing.
Atlas ignored him. “They each possess a rare magic or power.”
At that, Davorin seemed to waver on his feet. He rocked back slightly, then squeezed his eyes shut. The vampire’s mouth pulled into a hard line, and when he opened his eyes once more, his gaze dipped to where Valaina sat up from the cushions, her long nails sinking into the plush fabric. Her pale blonde hair was piled high on her head, woven into delicate braids and wispy curls. Rubies dangled from her ears and neck like drops of blood, and when she spoke, the lushness of her voice was replaced by a sharpened edge.
“This is terribly distressing.” The blue of her eyes grew colder. “More so than I originally imagined.”
“Indeed,” Rozalie agreed. Though her hands were folded gently in her lap, Atlas took note of the way her knuckles whitened, of the way she gripped her fingers so tightly, he thought she’d snap her own bones. “Your Imperial Highness,if what you and Lord Veros speak is the truth, then these immortals aren’t simply disappearing.”
Apprehension carved into Atlas’s gut, hollowing him out.
Rozalie swallowed, the golden bronze of her cheeks fading slightly. “They’re being hunted.”
Fuck.
Atlas raked a hand through his hair, shoving the curls back from his face. That singular word haunted him, spread through him like a plague. He stole a glance at Veros, and though his closest friend maintained an expression of calm neutrality, it was his eyes that gave him away. They were a storm of worry, clouded with swells of panic and dread. Atlas hated that he didn’t realize it sooner, because the memory that was troubling the Lord of Time was the very same one that tormented him the most.
Everinne had been hunted once.
She’d almost lost her life.
“This should come as no surprise to any of us.” Valaina held out her hand to Davorin, and he swiftly pulled her to her feet, his arm wrapping snugly around her waist, their fluid movements blurred around the edges. She rubbed her painted red lips together once. Twice. “They have existed for centuries. Vampire hunters. Witch hunters. Fae hunters. And they’ve all always had something in common as well.”
“Human,” Davorin ground the word out as rage rolled off him, flooding the space with tension. “The hunters are always human.”
“Wait a minute.” Atlas lifted one hand, leveling the fuming vampire with a look of malice. “We cannot just assume the humans, or mortals dwelling within the city limits of Starysa in general, are the ones to blame for this.”
“And why not?” Davorin growled, his fangs lengthening. “They’ve done it before.”
A valid point.
The man who hunted Everinne was a human.
