Page 60 of Hellbound

Bohdan had returned to the desk.

She slammed the dossier down on the table. The force jolted the ink pot on the desk, spilling black liquid onto the lacquered surface.

“Courtesan. Really?”

“Is there a problem, candidate?” Bohdan dipped his pen into the pot and continued writing.

“I am not a whore.” Vitriol coated her words. She was many things: a bondsmith, a treasoner, soon-to-be-assassin of the king, but not a whore.

“This is a cover. There aren’t that many options for women in Hearth, but if you prefer, I can make you a chambermaid.”

“Anything. Else.” She stabbed the desk with her index finger.

He gingerly placed the pen flat on the desk and rose from his chair, his next words catching her off guard.

“Why were you following me the other night?”

She blinked before her face took on an angry snarl.

“Not everything is about you, you insufferable bastard. You and I being in the same location was a coincidence.”

He leaned in, his words soft in her ear when he said, “And not everything is about you with these trials, so take the cover or die. I’m more than happy to see you out of the competition.”

The air had turned frigid. Goosebumps broke out over her flesh, and she prayed he couldn’t see her reaction.

It’s not worth fighting over, she decided, digging her nails into her palms.

She had to play this game till the end, then she would kill the bastard and his king where they stood.

She snatched the paperwork off his desk and turned on her heel to leave.

Pavel and Vuk were in Hearth’s great hall when she located them twenty minutes later. This marked the first moment she was allowed to roam the common areas of Hearth in daylight.

The main cathedral structure of Hearth was dozens of stories tall. Her head tipped back completely to look at the gold leaf that served as the negative space in the paintings of the gods on the cathedral ceiling. Gold covered the busts and reliefs of their likenesses, tucked beneath intricately carved alcoves built directly into the numerous pillars that supported the building.

From the outside, the stained glass set into the lancet windows was dark and dreary. But within, they were awash with color—depictions of the pantheon and their ascension stories from mortals to gods. A tier beneath them were macabre reliquaries of royal families, rumored to become minor deities upon death. Set in crystalline orbs embedded within the pillars were their bleached-white skulls, peering down upon the masses, and the layer beneath that featured statues of priests, devout followers, nobles, and others deemed supportive of their royal lieges’ paths to godhood.

And supposedly, generation after generation, their statues and reliquaries were shifted upward, closer to the heavens and the gods.

Everything in Kraal was about gaining power. Ksenia couldn’t imagine why anyone would wish to ascend, only to have their power and existence hinge on having enough followers and prayers.

She mused that perhaps this was all Karsan knew—doing what was necessary to gain power, and never letting go. Perhaps he knew if he didn’t continue, he would be subject to the horrible things he had done to others and the squalor he forced them into.

The amount of detail was nauseating; every inch was adorned with intricate stonework, sculpture, and ornamentation.

Above all, the place of honor was in front of the trefoiled rose window at the end of the great hall, where the most recently deceased royal would be displayed.

Ksenia looked upon the skull suspended in the crystal orb and could imagine Ravenka’s finely drawn features. It was dwarfed and surrounded by massive, spinning concentric gold rings, rimmed with spiked amethysts, another ring of rubies, and the last ring of emeralds, shifting within an ever-turning armillary sphere.

She watched the faceted jewels of the relic set the space alight with moving color, a wink of yellow catching her eye.

Hundreds of feet below on the cool marble tile, nobles bowed their heads in prayer to her.

Apart from the sphere, there was another statement piece that underscored Hearth’s priorities.

Embedded within the mosaic threshold of the castle entrance was gold-foiled glass tile arranged with lettering: By Blood and Bone, We are Bound.

Ksenia’s eyes traced over the lettering once more as Vuk and Pavel walked through it, bickering with each other on the best way to infiltrate the vault. She caught up to them past the threshold as the iron doors began to close behind her.