Page 239 of Vasmora

“I don’t have time to wait,” he kept on, not bothering to slow his pace.

“Where are you going?” she asked, the clack of her shoes hastening as she tried to keep up.

“To look for Maevyth.”

“She’s not in the wine cellar. Believe me, I checked. Wanted to make sure she didn’t swipe King Ardere’s vintage.”

Zevander ground to a halt and huffed, running his hands through his hair.

“She didn’t, don’t worry.” She leaned in, spilling wine over the rim of her glass. “I hid it,” she whispered.

He rubbed a hand down his face, his patience thinning. “Have you seen her, then?”

“Last I saw, she was heading toward your bedroom. Why?” Her eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass as she lifted it for another sip. “What did she do now?”

“She is Morsana. Maevyth is her vessel. And according to that book you mentioned earlier, if I don’t find a way to reach Maevyth by the merging of moons, I suspect she’ll remain in Maevyth’s body.”

“Merging of moons? That’s in … an hour?”

“Now you understand my impatience.”

“What will you do?” The panic in her voice certainly didn’t help calm his nerves.

He paced. He never paced, but his head refused to let him remain idle. Thoughts poured through his mind, those images playing over and over again, while he wracked his brain, trying to decide what to do with her.

Throw her into the cells below? Distract her with potent wine?

“It seems Maevyth is trapped in Caligorya. If I could reach her somehow.” Zevander pulled to a halt, staring off as an idea came to mind.

“You’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes. It’s like thought swirls.” She circled her finger in front of his face, and he batted her hand away. “Very intriguing and frustrating at the same time. What are you thinking?” she asked, tipping back another sip.

He frowned. “In Mortasia, I fell into Caligorya. Trapped there by Cadavros. Maevyth pulled me out of it.”

Rykaia held up her glass and bowed her head. “A queen in her own right, yes.”

Zevander stared off, recalling that moment back in The Crone Witch’s cabin, when he’d awakened with her fingers entwined in his. “She used the flame. Sablefyre.”

“Sablefyre? Well, that’s interesting.” Waving a hand in the air, she shook her head. “But don’t tell me your theories on it, you don’t have time and it would only bore me. Just tell me if you think you can save her and get rid of the horrid beast who’s taken over her body.”

He stroked his hand over the mask covering his face, a habit whenever he was deep in thought. “I think it can save her. But if it doesn’t work, we’re going to need to find a way to send Morsana back to the Aethyr without killing Maevyth.”

“Perhaps we should pray for the first option,” Rykaia said and gulped another swill of wine.

“I have to find her and subdue her, somehow.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Good luck with that. I can’t imagine how one would go about chaining a goddess.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Zevander groaned. “By giving her what she wants.”

* * *

Zevander knocked on his bedroom door and pressed his ear to the wooden surface, listening for any sound on the other side of it. At the lack of response, he opened it and stepped inside the dark room.

A wine glass sat on the table, alongside an aged bottle of what appeared to be the oldest wine from the cellar. He took whispered steps across the floor, making his way to the bathing room, but didn’t find her there. Nor in the bed. Under it. Or anywhere else in the room.

As he passed by the window, movement caught his attention, and he frowned on watching a figure dash across the yard toward the small forest in the distance. If not for the stark white lawn, he might not have seen her, thanks to the black dress she wore blending with the darkness shadowing her.

Morsana.