Page 165 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Aren?”

“Right behind you,” he grumbled as he yanked a shirt over that impeccable frame. Still, I couldn’t stop watching him as I climbed the stairs, some part of me convinced he’d vanish if I blinked.

Aren

The palace interior made it clear we’d moved beyond the grasp of that damned desert. The dark stone walls made me feel as though I’d stepped back into a seventh-century citadel. Still reeling from being trapped in that massive, chubby furball, I kept my mouth shut and scoured the ceiling and long walls, half-expecting another demon to manifest.

As Magnolia had immediately inventoried, our party was already down four. We’d lost Paul of Bellaton and Laurel of Terramyst to the scorpions the first day. Rigel of Paladin vanished into the shadows on the second and never emerged. The storm took Zeke’s nephew, Clay.

Just over a week in this hellscape, and it had robbed us of four loyal souls. Judging by the shadows in Magnolia’s eyes when Brody answered her, the price was steeper still.

Unless she’d snuck out under their noses, there was no way Alec or August would’ve let her embark on this mission alone.

“What is this place?” Rika pressed as we moved in silence through the dark corridors.

“I’ve got a feeling, but I don’t like it,” I admitted. Because that storm had shoved us heavily east. And I knew exactly whose curse lay in the east.

A labyrinth. That’s what this was. Hallways and windows, but no actual chambers yet. I looked at Magnolia, whose eyes were trained on the ceiling as though she could sense something above us. Then at the bracelet the bastard had given her, at the charm set in its center.

I wasn’t sure what I expected beyond the stab of jealousy at seeing his key on her wrist—answers, maybe. Confirmation or rejection of my theory. Unfortunately for all of us, it was only the former. I wanted to snap it off her. But Mags had been right. If we were to collide head-to-head with Bellpost, his little gift could come in handy.

“There’s life here,” Lana said sharply, pale hands held out in front of her, fingers shifting as she sensed the energy. “And water.”

I nodded, my power humming in agreement.

She wasn’t Aphaea, but Lana had a natural affinity for earth and water, just like her sister. Plus, she was talking—more than could be said most days since we lost Ansel.

Apparently almost dying—again—did that.

At last, the corridor darkened. Windows stopped marking our progress as doors took their place, sparse, shriveled vines winding between the stone blocks around them. My stomach sank as we moved deeper and the dry flora gradually brightened into lively shades of green.

“I’ve got a weird feeling about this,” Jason muttered.

All I could do was nod as the plants shifted and swayed, almost as if they watched us pass. Sentient, like Fae’s magic. Magnolia’s hand brushed the back of mine, and I caught it, weaving our fingers together and keeping her close.

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Rika asked, exhaustion bleeding into her tone.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Lana snapped, “He’ll know it when he sees it.”

Arching a brow, I glanced at the two healers hurrying to keep up. I slowed to accommodate Rika’s pace, smirking at Magnolia when her eyes lifted to mine.

“That’s how you gauge your plans? Intuition?” Rika pressed.

“My gut’s never let me down before.” My gaze stayed locked on Mags as though she might vanish if I looked away. She smiled softly, even as that familiar battle entered her eyes.

A soft patter drew both our gazes upward. The ceiling was swallowed in a latticework of greenery, plant life occupying every inch of the hallway and climbing down the walls as though it might lash across the floor at the slightest provocation.

There was a universal law of power few liked to acknowledge: like people, like weapons, power was simply energy made manifest. So long as it wasn’t malevolent, odds were this enchantment guarded the castle. If our intentions proved harmless, it would likely let us pass. Only by disturbing whatever this curse protected would we risk provoking it.

And I was ninety-nine percent positive we already knew exactly whose spellwork had woven this bulwark.

There were exceptions to every rule—the snakes, for instance, clearly didn’t give a flying fuck about our energy. They were out for blood regardless of its source. But that was the enchantment at work.

Following my feet, we climbed a staircase, took two lefts, and came upon an arched entryway, the faint shimmer beyond it promising some kind of atrium. Renewed, we hurried into the open space. Far overhead, vaulted ceilings soared above a long line of carved archivolts and ornate stone columns framing gaping windows. Plants crept through the openings, reaching toward walls and floor as though we’d stumbled into an ancient cathedral now being viciously reclaimed by the vegetation protecting it from the darkness. Darkness that still clung to the corners, ducking beneath lush leaves and looming beyond the ornate balustrade above.

Ghosts of gatherings—dancing and laughter—seemed to fill the air even as branches creaked and vines shifted, that eerie sentience just as aware of us as we were of it.

“Where are we?” Rika breathed.