“We should wait til nightfall,” Cary replies. “He’s too strong with the sun out. But you’re right, catching him is the only way to save her.”
“Where should we lure him?” I ask.
“Back where it all began.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
KIAN
The sun sinks below the horizon, and the drastic change in temperature is jarring. As much as I’m loath to thank him, I’m grateful Cary brought extra water and rations for us.
Sera volunteered to keep Rae company by the pit, and despite all the questions I have for her, I don’t believe she means her harm. Truth is, her betrayal benefited us; if we’d had to travel back to Elsmont to find Cary, Rae would have been alone that whole time, which is unfathomable. I’m angry but . . . relieved? Either way, I don’t fully trust Sera, which is why I sent Alex to accompany her.
We spend the rest of the day hiking up to the highest point of the island. The craggy mountain peak is devoid of life—char marks streak the small plateau. Cary’s men strain as they heave a large trunk in front of where Cary and I decided to set up an altar.
“This will work to summon him?” I ask, pacing back and forth once the altar is completed.
“If he’s out for blood, as I imagine he is, mine will surely call him,” Cary replies.
“What’s in here?” I ask, nudging the trunk with my foot.
Cary kneels to open it. “There are limited ways to subdue a god . . . and you’re lucky I have some pieces in my collection.”
I swear as he reveals the chest filled with a golden net and three enchanted blades.
“Father would have cleared your debts and then some if he knew of these,” I say. Was it foolishness or fortune that he hadn’t?
“These are priceless artifacts, princeling.” Cary sneers.
I clench my fists at my sides. If this bastard calls me “princeling” one more time, I’ll give him a taste of the Shadow’s wrath.
“And you’re so sure he’ll fall for the same tricks a second time?” I raise a brow. Shockingly, I’d gotten Cary to divulge bits and pieces of how he’d trapped Kyros here twenty-six years ago as we hiked through the jungle.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, now, can they?”
We’re fucked.
Cary directs his men to hide themselves and the net behind an outcropping of rocks, and Dylan readies a fire by the altar. Reverently, Cary hands me one of the enchanted blades before sheathing the other at this side. The last, he gives to Dylan, who holds it in his uninjured hand, and I roll my eyes. The man is not worthy to carry such a blade.
“Be careful with that,” Cary chides me as I test its weight.
I jab it at him, and he jumps away, cursing.
“Show some respect, princeli?—”
With a practiced maneuver, I have the razor-sharp blade mere inches from his throat. “I highly recommend you stop calling me that.” I tut. “Speaking of respect?—”
“Would the two of you stop messing around?” Dylan interrupts, standing in front of the altar. “We’re about to summon a god who very well might kill us, and you’re bickering over there.”
Withdrawing the blade from Cary’s throat, I step back. “As much as I hate agreeing with the asshole, he’s right. We need to try to work together.”
Dylan mutters something under his breath, but he’s not worth my energy.
Darkness has completely fallen, the only light coming from the moon, the stars, and the crackling fire burning bright by the altar.
I follow Cary and stand before it, wondering how long he’s going to wait to summon Kyros.
Before I can react, Cary grabs my palm and slices across it with a blade, Dylan jumping in to keep me in place.
