I stepped back, my breath catching. These were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that no matter how attractive, I could not make good on. I would always be loyal to the NecrolineDynasty first. And the way I wanted this woman threatened that.
A soft groan in the hallway brought me back to the moment, then the click of Rhiannon’s heels as she walked away. Ember stood with her back to me, still. I watched as some of the bravado of the previous moment melted away.
“What did you think of the island?” she asked, her eyes tired and haunted when she glanced back at me. I frowned, not wanting to forget the place I’d just been. “You can talk about it to other people you’re sure know about it.”
I watched as she went to the door and pulled the labrys from the wood, alternating between watching her and staring at my hands. I had been so sure they were burning. “It was beautiful. Rhiannon seemed to think that showing me would help me help you, though I don’t know how.”
She made a small noise, non-committal, but an acknowledgment all the same. “Maybe it’ll come to you later.”
I nodded, still staring at my hands. “How was I still here, but Rhiannon had actually disappeared?”
Ember sighed. “Those are secrets that aren’t mine to tell. You can never actually visit the island, while we are able to return via the plinths.” She motioned for me to follow her as she slung the labrys over her shoulder.
I followed her into the hallway. “Do you have a door here as well?”
She nodded, walking a few steps deeper into the hallway, before stopping a few doors down. When I caught up to her, she smiled up at me, the bittersweet sadness in her eyes almost unbearable to witness. “This is my door.” She swallowed hard before turning back towards the stairs Rhiannon and I had come up.
I stared at the brass serpent on the door, a vibrant symbol of both chaos and renewal. A small smile found my lips. It was like finding a gift, a secret about her that I might never have known otherwise. Hope budded up within me, a fragile bloom thatwould need to be nurtured carefully, but I already saw the tattoo in my mind, a serpent twining through blooms of hemlock on my chest. On the place over my heart.
Ember’s sharp breath broke my reverie. The fragile bloom, the serpent in the hemlock, the vision of something better for my future—all dissolved in an instant, as though I’d never had the audacity to think of it.
At the end of the hallway stood a woman with umber skin and a shaved head. Her eyes were smudged with elegant kohl liner, and she was dressed in sturdy, close-fitting pants, heavy combat boots, and a leather jacket. Standing next to her, leaning on her, cloaked in an ankle-length black wool coat with the collar flipped up around her face, was a silver-haired beauty with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.
My heart crushed under the violence of my own mistakes. This was retribution for the errors I had made. For my lack of experience and vigilance. For my trust in the wrong people. Now I would pay for all I’d done.
Max Vela and Serafine DuVal.
“What thefuckis this?” Max snarled. In an instant, she stepped in front of Serafine, her movements lightning quick as the sound of metal brought Ember and I both to attention. Max Vela had her sword. Hertruesword. The air in the library contracted with its power.
“Max,” Serafine whispered, her long fingers closing over her friend’s shoulder. “Max.”
“No,” Max barked in return. “Explain this, Verona. Is this a trap?”
Ember shook her head, her face smoothing into a strange mask of neutrality I’d never seen her use before. “No. It’s a bad coincidence. Rhiannon brought him here.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Max shot back. She moved into a defensive stance. “He tried to kill Sera.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Ember shook her headonce. “He did not, and you know that. We’ve seen the evidence. It was a terrible mistake.”
“Let us pass,” Serafine said. “Please. We don’t want trouble.”
Ember made a noise that sounded like choking. “I would never stop you from getting the help you need. I am sorry.” Her voice broke over the apology. “I am so sorry.”
Every ounce of pain that flowed between the three of them was my fault. My negligence. My mistakes. I pushed past Ember, my hands raised to show that I was unarmed. I took several steps forward slowly, bowing my head as I did.
“My intentions did not matter,” I said as I knelt before Serafine DuVal. “All that matters is that I harmed you. I would never beg your forgiveness, but I do ask for peace between us.” I paused, breathing deep. “For the sake of my people. Please, let me help your sistren regain their swords. If, after that, you wish for my life, it is forfeit.”
Cool fingers tipped my chin up to stare into the violet eyes that looked down on me. Serafine’s heart-shaped face was framed by loose silvery-white waves and unruly bangs. Her rosebud mouth turned down. “I know you meant me no harm, Ares Necroline.”
Behind her, Max scoffed. Serafine shook her head. “Max cannot forgive you. But I do. Help my sistren. Find my sword, and all will be right between us.”
I nodded as she held out her hand. This was an old tradition. One from her homeland, just outside of Orphium, consumed by the wastelands now. I took her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it. “I promise it will be done.”
She lowered her head to kiss the top of mine, and as she did she whispered in a voice so soft I barely heard her, “And when you do, you shall have my blessing. Now, rise.”
I glanced up at her as I stood. Serafine’s periwinkle eyes sparkled with elven mischief. What had she read in me themoment I placed my hand in hers? There were rumors about her, about the things she could do. Some called her a witch, with that silver hair and translucent skin, with eyes like the rarest of jewels.
“I will take my leave,” I said, continuing on with formality. It seemed best. “You have much to talk about.”
