Page 61 of Hellbound

“What vault?”

Pavel turned to her with a sneer. “Gods, you’ve got to be kidding me. Everyone knows there’s a vault beneath Hearth’s church. Every thief would kill to crack it.”

Ksenia sneered back. “What evidence do you have that the missing earring is within that vault?”

He stopped in his tracks, pivoting to face her once more and clapping the back of his hand into his palm with each word. “Crown. Jewel.”

He turned on his heel. “Where else would they keep it but the most secure location within the castle?”

Ksenia shifted her weight onto one hip and shrugged. “Is it the most secure location if it’s widely known?”

He looked back at her, exasperated, before swinging his gaze to Vuk, eyebrows raised.

Vuk backed away, palms facing the pair. “You two figure it out. I’m just the brawn.”

With two days remaining in the challenge, Ksenia found herself walking across the covered stone bridge, slick with mist and spray from the waterfall. By all accounts she had gleaned from the architectural drawings and books from Varka’s library, if there were an excellent place to build a vault, it would be beneath the church itself—encased in the solid stone. Which was precisely where her feet were taking her.

She clutched her wax-wool cloak tightly about her, shivering against the spray of water. Her curiosity got the best of her as she leaned over the edge and peered down into the canyon.

The call of the void. She wondered absently what the mist would feel like if she fell, whether the roar would swallow her scream, whether anyone would be able to find her battered body.

“Senka, how I hoped our paths would cross again.”

Ksenia jerked back from the edge, her hand flying to Caromir at her hip.

“Careful, I only just found you again,” Chancellor Valdren mused, his paunchy face stretching his thick lips into a smile as he surveyed the edge. “Heading to the church as well, my dear?”

Ksenia squinted at the sapphire brooch gleaming on his chest before begrudgingly accepting his proffered arm.

“I have business with Archbishop Serafin myself…”

A saccharine smile graced her face as he led them toward the church entrance. The smell of his cologne made her eyes water, as if he had applied it with such enthusiasm she could taste the ambergris and camphor.

The chapel’s three-storied interior glowed warmly in contrast to the dark granite exterior. Its beige marble walls were polished to a subtle sheen that caught the firelight from the braziers, and arched windows soared and punctuated the wall, diffusing daylight with a glow. Stationed between them were white-marble statues depicting The Six—gods of origin who had existed before kingdoms. Their likenesses towered over the churchgoers, with hollow yet watchful eyes.

As Valdren and Ksenia passed the threshold, she yanked her arm away from him with a small smile, but he caught the crook of her elbow with his bloated hand.

“I will say, I’m thrilled to see you at court finally…If surprised by your position. What does Bohdan think of this?”

Her face mottled red, her eyes cold and hard for a moment before she adopted a thin smile. “Bohdan understands, of course. We have an amicable, platonic relationship. He knows how important it is for me to be amongst the court.”

“I’m overjoyed, because I had a gift made in your honor—as a jeweler, I’m certain you’ll treasure this…” His sausage-thick fingers began fumbling in his coat.

“You’re too kind, Grand Chancellor. But I’ve only begun in my position, and I deserve no gifts.” Bile rose in her throat, but she forced herself still as his lecherous gaze raked her from head to toe.

He gestured for her to remove the cloak from her shoulders.

A scream threatened to break the dam in her throat, but she held firm. She unclasped the hook of her cloak and swung it off her shoulders, gathering the protective material in a sodden bundle in her arms in an effort to block his view of her chest.

“What a vision you are.” His gaze swept over her golden-rod dress—embroidered florals in sage and rust, empire-waisted with a low square neckline.

He tutted and stepped behind her. “Lift your hair for me, my dear.”

Her lips pressed even thinner as she reluctantly released her death-grip on Caromir’s hilt and did as instructed.

A soft tinkle of gems and beading came to her ear, then the press of cold but delicate metal encircled her neck.

When he turned her by the shoulders so she could see her reflection in a gilded mirror, she took in the confection of ruby-red glass beads with a golden chain that wrapped around the smooth column of her neck. From the chain dangled multiple delicate strands of beads in a waterfall effect, with the longest layer draped at the center. Within the hollow of her throat rested a golden heart-shaped medallion with engraved scrollwork patterns.