Their group came to a stop in the center of the long, narrow recess, and the lord held up the torch. Orange flame licked across the slick rock walls, illuminating the countless sketches and words etched into the surface.
Avalon’s mouth popped open. This was just like in the catacombs, and in the temples where they’d sought rest on the way here.
The lord’s words echoed. “Few can read the language here. Some claim it was the language of the gods, known by none except the Children of Light and those in the spirit world.”
Avalon stepped up to the wall. “Why have you brought us here?” Her skull throbbed so hard she swore it might crack open, and the words etched into the stone somehow became clearer the longer she stared at them.
“I believe failing Sable and Killian in one lifetime is enough,” Oceathus said. “I refuse to make the same mistake twice.”
Avalon looked over her shoulder at Oceathus, her eyebrows rising in disbelief. “You mean… You will allow us to retrieve the stone from your temple?”
“The stone was never in my temple.” Oceathus reached into the pocket of his white robe and produced a heart-shaped sapphire that sparkled even in the darkness of the cove. He offered it to Avalon with zero reluctance. “The stone is yours,” he declared.
She held out her hand, and he dropped it into her palm.
Hadrian’s arms were crossed as he watched from several feet away. “Why not just give us the stone yesterday?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of guards in our company today,” said the lord. “There are few people in my palace whom I trust, Captain. And my children make up the majority of the said few.” He gave a wistful smile. “Perhaps one day it might be different again.”
Hadrian frowned. “Was it all just an act?”
“I will do whatever is needed to protect what good is left in the world,” said Oceathus. “Even lying well enough to convince those I’m planning to ally with that I am the enemy.”
The Lord of Aquatica took Avalon’s hand gently in his sun-browned fingers, closing her own tightly around the stone. “Tell no one that you have this,” he said. “I will prepare a boat for you this evening to take you back to the Forest Realm.”
She used her free hand to cup his. “Thank you.”
37
Nocturne sat just outside the camp, close enough that the other Wolves could see her, but far enough away that she couldn’t hear the words uttered on half-frozen tongues. Even the infamous Wolf Pack was beginning to feel the effects of the cold. It served them right, for Nocturne had shouldered the cold alone far too many times. Their secondary skins spoiled them; perhaps now they would understand how the runt felt during training.
But for all the benefits that came with having a Skin, Nocturne wondered if it was simply better to be normal. Well, as normal as she could be in the immortal lands of Elderyn. By surviving this long in the North without a Skin to retreat into, she’d learned a thing or two about perseverance. Perhaps the powers the Wolves possessed had spoiled them one too many times.
Boots crunched in snow as Twyla approached, her steps slow enough to suggest she was waiting for Nocturne’s approval to join her. But Nocturne was too tired to turn her head, let alone invite someone to sit with her, so she remained quiet. And as her friend lingered, sniffling in the freezing air, Nocturne realized another day had passed here in the Outlands, and she hadn’t said a single word to anyone—not even to Twyla. If she kept this up, she would forget how to speak—or how to keep a valuable friend.
With a sigh, she threw a glance over her shoulder. “You can sit down if you want.”
Twyla lowered herself to the ground beside her. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Nocturne shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t live with.”
Her friend was silent for a long time. “I know you miss them,” she whispered. Nocturne’s breathing hitched. “But I’m sure they would want you to take care of yourself. I don’t think they’d want to see you wither away. And I mean that in the least offensive way possible.”
“I know,” Nocturne whispered. Her fists loosened. “But one day, none of this will matter anymore. I’m just…getting by. Surviving until I can see them again.”
Silence swept back in, and Nocturne caught sight of the general weaving his way through the trees in the distance, the Wraith at his heels. She wondered what they had been up to these past few days, for they disappeared from time to time and never returned with anything. Not firewood, water, food—nothing. They just…left. No one knew where they kept going.
“You and the general have been keeping your distance from each other lately,” Twyla remarked, following Nocturne’s gaze.
Nocturne shrugged. “As I should,” she mumbled. “And asheshould.”
Twyla wrapped her arms around her knees. “Have you ever wondered why he has shown such an interest in you?”
“I know why,” Nocturne snapped. She struggled to suppress her annoyance. “And I told him that if his intention is to bed me, he won’t succeed.”
Twyla gaped at her. “Yousaidthat?”
Nocturne met her friend’s startled gaze. “What do I have to lose? I’ve already been branded, whipped, and beaten to a bloody pulp. What else could he have done? Aside from kill me.” She shrugged, her cheeks burning from the words she had yet to say. “Still, sometimes I…sometimes I wonder if I should take him up on his silent offer. Perhaps, if I get that close, I’ll finally gain the revenge I seek.”
