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“You shift. I’ll walk.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“It’s disconcerting to be in one spot and then in another in the blink of an eye. To say nothing of the horrible feeling of being turned inside out and then righted again.”
“Come here.” I hold out my hand again. “Now, Elora.”
“I don’t mind walking. Besides, your power is cold, and I—”
Irritated, I grab her hand and yank her up against me. Cupping her face in my palms, I push warmth and calm and healing into her before shifting away from the edge of Meren and into the hallway outside her rooms.
She squeezes her eyes shut for the journey, her hands gripping my wrists, nails digging into the skin. When it’s done, she sags against me for a brief moment before righting herself. But she doesn’t step out of my embrace, and I don’t release her.
Her gaze snags on my mouth again, and her lips part. The beat of her heart picks up, and her throat clicks when she swallows hard. I give her a moment and the silence, curious about what she might do with both.
Slowly, the mesmerized look in her eyes fades and she stumbles back, grappling behind her for the doorknob to her rooms. When she proves unable to open it, I put us both out of our misery, my body brushing hers as I reach around her to push the door in.
Skimming my nose against her temple as I retreat, I inhale her scent before stepping back.
“Do me a favor, little one.” She scowls, and it only deepens when I grin. “Try not to get into any trouble.”
“I make no promises.”
“I didn't imagine you would. That’s what the wards are for.”
I shift to my study, where Garrick and Nevon are both waiting for me. While Garrick launches into his daily report about the Shadow Realm, my mind drifts back to Elora. It’s more fun than I anticipated to throw her off balance and make all the thoughts tumble out of her head.
And if I’m going to be stuck with her, I might as well learn to get my amusements where I can.
Chapter Sixteen
Tucked into an alcove overlooking the palace’s northern grounds, I study the crude map I’ve managed to draw of the Shadow Realm over the last few days. Between additional tours with Railan and lots of sweet talking with Nevon, who I imagine would flirt with anyone who stood still long enough, I’ve gathered enough information to sketch out a sizable portion of the realm.
There’s only one problem. That’s not true. This entire situation is nothing but problems, but my map has a singular issue. It’s woefully incomplete.
I’ve marked Irios and Meren and what I can see of Videva from the highest window in the south tower. But it’s impossible to know how big each of those territories is. I know the forbidden forest stretches along the entire border of the Shadow Realm, separating it from Acaria and disguising the veil.
I’ve only seen a full-scale map of Acaria a handful of times in my life. I can’t recall the entire thing with crystal clarity, but I remember the depth and breadth of the forest. It runs the length of the six different territories belonging to members of Thieran’s dark court.
If the rendering was an accurate one, then the map I’ve drawn is roughly only half finished. And even with Railan’s patient tours and Nevon’s help in filling in the gaps, I still have no idea where any of the rivers are.
According to the stories, the Shadow Realm has three rivers. The River Grense, meant to wipe a soul’s memory were they to drink from it, to offer them a fresh start. The River Loret, which guards the entrance to the realm. The souls of the dead are said to cross there and pay their toll.
And then there’s the River Axan. The river of sorrow. The stories of the river’s purpose vary. Some say a method of torture for the damned, and others a toy for the vengeful God of Death to cast souls into when he’s bored. Just to hear them scream, they say.
Carefully folding the map, I shove it into my pocket. I didn’t think much about the God of Death before I ended up in his realm. Some mortals are plagued by constant thoughts of him, my aunt included, but to me, he was nothing but an inevitable conclusion.
Whether I lived fifteen years or fifty, my fate would be the same. I was always meant to end up in the Shadow Realm. We all are. I just never thought I’d end up here alive. With no way out again.
Suddenly the fate I’d resigned myself to doesn’t seem as comforting. Not when I still have so much life to live and the God of Death himself is far more interesting than I want him to be.
Shoving away from the wall, I pace into the hallway and back to the window. He plays games, he tricks, he lies to get his way. That is what people say of the God of Death. And I can hardly dispute that. Not when he’s keeping me prisoner for reasons that are entirely his own.
If Kaia knows what they are, she won’t say—and neither will Railan. They’re both evasive when I ask why Thieran insists on keeping me here, telling me it's for my own good or changing the subject completely.
I don’t know if what Thieran said was true, if he can sense me anywhere in the realm and prevent my escape. Whether it is or it isn’t, I’d rather incur his wrath by trying than become complicit in my own captivity.
All I need to do is find the direction of the River Axan. It’s rumored to be black as pitch and seductive, calling out to wandering souls. A black river is the only thing I remember about my arrival in the realm. Before Thieran scooped me up and I woke in the tower.
