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I burst out laughing. ‘One day I’ll write your biography and title itMurder and Mathematics.’
As long as you take care to adequately describe my godlike physique, he dryly signed, pulling me back from the edge with his left hand. His fingers were firm on my upper arm, their weight settling reassuringly into the marrow of my bones.But let’s wait until we have this trip behind us. They’re waiting.
Oh, fuck. I’d momentarily forgotten about the eyes watching us – about that cursed public opinion, about Tared and Agenor waiting for any reason to end this mission and drag me out of Creon’s way. Even as I obediently turned away from the edge and tried to look chaste and innocent, the reflex to follow the magnetic pull of his fingers and jump into his embrace was painfully strong.
I pulled my arm from his grip, cursing in silence at the hungering phantom pressure his fingers left behind. Months in the privacy of silent library halls and bedrooms had lowered my guard. Time to get back into the habit of secrecy, and get there really damn quickly.
We walked on without speaking. Before us, a low tunnel led away from the dizzying depths of the hall; the others had quietly gathered at the farthest point, where the corridor ended in a low, steel-plated doorway. Three heavy bolts blocked the exit of the Underground, two keyholes between them. The heavy locks were made of alf steel, forged to resist fae magic.
A single ray of sunlight fell through the chink below the door.
Sunlight.
Behind that thick layer of wood and iron and alf steel, the continent was waiting for us – the plague was waiting for us.
It was at the sight of my companions’ motionless tension – at the sight ofEdoredlooking pale and nervous – that sudden talons of fear dug deep into my guts. But this was not the time to waver, not the time to turn back.
I clenched my nails into my palm to keep myself from reaching for Creon and jutted up my chin, taking care to sound like the fearless little half fae they could safely follow into hell. ‘I suppose someone brought a key?’
That broke the spell. Naxi drew two keys from the pocket of her fuzzy jacket, both of them as large as Lyn’s forearms, while Tared hauled the bolts aside. The door screeched open a fraction, the wail of its rusty hinges deafening in the buried silence.
A sliver of blinding sunlight fell through the chink, and I caught my first glimpse of the place where no living soul had ventured since the War of the Gods.
Chapter 6
Atfirst,Icoulddistinguish nothing but outlines through the sting of the light: high facades and the broad expanse of an elegant avenue, all of it reduced to pain and whiteness under the merciless midday sun.
Edored’s muffled swearing was an eloquent enough description, though.
Only several heartbeats later, blinking the last tears from my eyes, did I see what his alf eyes had already recognised even in the dazzling sunlight – a graveyard.
Lyckfort must have been a stunning city once, the jewel of Divine Age architecture that I knew from paintings and sketches in Lyn’s books. But stretched out before us lay decaying ruins, the brick terrace houses crumbling, the high windows broken, the last flecks of paint on the shutters on the brink of flaking off. Weeds and vines had grown over the cobblestones, claiming the streets for themselves. They climbed over the fountains and statues, too, the marble below cracked and weathered, the faces and ornamental motifs no longer recognisable even in the clear light of day.
And everywhere, still mostly human-shaped but burned black like coal from head to toe, were the bodies.
I stared at them, bile rising in the back of my throat. The plague victims lay scattered across the street, some alone, some with child-sized companions, some surrounded by the rotting remains of bags and baskets, caught in the middle of their flight. They couldn’t possibly have understood what was coming for them. They must have been surprised by the deadly magic washing over them, no time to flee their city and set off towards the sea, but even if it had been quick – and I prayed it had been quick …
These burns are no joke, Ylfreda had said.
‘I’ve got the shields in place,’ Naxi said lightly, her chipper voice jarring like a festive waltz at a funeral.‘Creon, could you try— Hell’s sake, there’s no need to shield half the bloody continent at once, show-off. Tone it down a little.’
After a moment of pause, Creon tilted his head, as if to ask a question.
‘Still overdoing it slightly,’ Naxi said with a sharp-toothed grin, ‘but I suppose you’ll get the hang of it. Come out, everyone. Our darling prince is keeping the plague at bay between here and Elderburg, I believe.’
With a careless chuckle, Creon followed her outside. His look around the street was devoid of all shock or aversion; nothing but shallow curiosity in his eyes as he scanned his surroundings, like an artist admiring the work of another master. Sauntering around like this, every shred of the heart I knew hidden behind an impenetrable shield, his tall form blended easily into this gruesome display of magic – nothing but yet another terror in a city that had already seen too much of them.
A sight that shouldn’t make my breath catch, that shouldn’t make me itch to follow him into the darkness … but gods have mercy, there was no denying the stutter of my heart.
Then I saw the unbridled hate in Tared’s grey eyes, the muscle twitching at Agenor’s temple, the way Edored and Beyla tightened their hands around their swords, and woke from my ill-advised swooning with a jolt. Pleasant as it might be to stand here and ogle Creon as he conquered the entire wasteland of Lyckfort with a single look, this wasn’t going to convince anyone that he wasn’t looking to seduce me or that I wasn’t waiting to be seduced.
I shoved past a faltering Beyla and stepped onto the overgrown cobblestones.
‘Em!’ Agenor hissed behind me.
But no torturous magic hit me as I emerged into the sunlight and drew in my first lungful of fresh Lyckfort air. The breeze tasted oddly dusty, lacking that briny sharpness of nearby sea that I’d breathed all my life – a more tangible reminder of the strangeness of my surroundings, somehow, than even the sight of the burned corpses in the street.
I steeled my shoulders, pretending I didn’t hear the muttering of the alves stepping out behind me. I was sensible and practical, I reminded myself as I followed Creon over the cobblestones. When I looked at him, I didn’t see the male who’d fucked my mind inside out a mere day ago. As a dutiful saviour of the world, I just saw a weapon.
