Page 91 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Still, doubt prodded at the back of Atlas’s mind.
“What motive would they have?” Veros asked, drumming his finger idly along the arm of his chair. Strands of dark hair fell in front of his face, concealing his eyes, but it did nothing to hide his growing disdain for the male vampire. “They are treated as equals here in Prava. They would have no reason to suddenly start ambushing immortals and making off with them in the middle of the night.”
“Not only that,” Caedian interjected, moving closer to stand by Atlas’s chair. “But the humans who live in Starysa specifically aren’t exactly educated in magic. They know nothing of our true capabilities, of our raw nature. If they are behind this, and I think the chances of that are incredibly slim, then someone of significant power would have to be the one calling the shots. And the bounty would have to be of great value.”
“My dear Captain,” Valaina crooned, her smile one of pure seduction laced with poison. “I think you are underestimating the workings of the human mind.”
“No offense, Eldress Valaina, but I have fought in many battles, alongside and against mortals. They either believe what they read in books to be truth, or they blindly, if not willingly, accept what someone else tells them.” Caedian’s gray gaze flicked to where the charmed ward flickered, where shadows passed and laughter ebbed, where the scent of mortal blood mingled with the perfumed air. “Much like wolves, humans work in packs, and there isalwaysa leader. Whoever is behind this must be of magical lineage.”
Rozalie’s brows pinched together, and she studied Caedian with an air of hesitation. “How can you be so certain?”
“Because the mortals have no justification.” Veros stood abruptly and shoved his timepiece into his pocket. Annoyancesparked in the rumble of his voice. “No purpose or cause. There’s been no discourse, no unrest. What reason would they have to seek some kind of vengeance against immortals?”
Rozalie toyed with the many necklaces she wore, the clinking of metal echoing softly. “Everything comes with a price, my lord. Especially magic.”
“That sounds rather ominous,” Valaina mused, pursing her deep red lips together.
“And telling,” Atlas countered, pinning the High Priestess with a look. “What do you know, Rozalie?”
She seemed unperturbed by the scrutiny of his glare, but her shoulders stiffened all the same. “There are…rumors.”
Atlas gestured, spreading both hands wide, waiting for her to elaborate.
Rozalie stood slowly, smoothing her burgundy and lace skirts. “As you know, the Coven of the Scarlet Moon ventures to the Marzena for certain goods. Herbs, spells, crystals?—”
“Get on with it, witch,” Davorin interjected.
“Hold your tongue, bloodsucker,” Atlas spat, his fists clenching. “Rozalie is a High Priestess, and while you may bed the Eldress of your clan, you are nothing in terms of rank.”
Davorin hissed. His eyes darkened to a shade of melted gold and his fangs elongated further, glinting like tiny white daggers. Caedian reached for the hilt of his sword, preparing to withdraw it, but Valaina glided between them in a flurry of silk and malice.
“Enough, Davorin,” she admonished, smacking him soundly upon the shoulder.
Atlas redirected his attention to Rozalie, but he felt the burning intensity of Veros’s gaze upon him. If anything, her mention of the Marzena was all the confirmation he needed that they would have to venture to the underdark. “Your dealings in the Marzena are your own, High Priestess. Please continue.”
“The hollow streets of the Marzena whisper of a dark power. One that seeks to restore what was lost.” Again, Rozalie fidgeted with her necklaces, this time clutching the silver one where a pendant shaped like the triple moon hung low. “The Azoura consider it an ill-fated omen.”
“What sort of dark power? An entity?” Veros kept his face guarded, but there was an undercurrent of trepidation lurking in the depths of his eyes. He reached into his pocket, clenching the timepiece in his hand. “A force outside our realm?”
“I could not say for certain, my lord. The Scarlet Moon does not loiter in the harrowing alleys of the Marzena.” She lifted her chin, the shafts of spilled light and languid shadows hardening the lines of her smooth face. “Even witches know better than to linger for too long amiss the necrotic and vile.”
Atlas glanced over at Veros and gave him a solemn nod.
They would go to the Marzena sooner rather than later.
“Keep the members of your coven and clan safe at all costs, but make sure they are all constantly aware of their surroundings.” Atlas addressed them as a whole, ensuring they understood the urgency of the matter at hand. If immortals were being hunted, the situation was going to become far more dire. “We must listen for any information possible and never discount where it may come from, whether that be the Marzena, the docks, the parlors, or even the damned Mystic Obscura.”
“I despise that place.” Rozalie recoiled, her lips curling into a sneer. “I refuse to give any establishment a drop of my blood just for entry.”
Atlas winced.
If only he’d been so adamant in denying such a sinister request.
“A few members of our clan have done so, and though they admire the entertainment, they’ve recently claimed the quality of performers has been rather lackluster.” Valaina peered up atDavorin, snapping her fingers. “Though there is that one they all seem to obsess over. Which one was it again?”
Davorin plucked her hand out of the air and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “The hoop dancer,milazk.”
Atlas faltered.
