Page 23 of Embers of Ruin

Onyx nudges Zael onward, forcing Bromir to follow, and I glare at the back of his head as if that might compel him to slow down. I can’t resist a look over my shoulder at a nearby stream. Onyx notices, and we stop to water the horses.

During the brief reprieve, I take one of Otto’s honey cakes from the parcel, letting out a low moan as the sweetness floods my mouth. Onyx says nothing while I eat, but I catch him watching me once, his gloved hands resting on the reins, expression unreadable.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re glaring at the honey cake.”

“Because I resent how much I like it. This really is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.”

Onyx nods in agreement before staring off into the distance as I all but inhale the delicious pastry.

Once the horses are watered and I’ve eaten enough honey cakes to give me a bellyache, we continue our ride and the afternoon sky darkens. I catch glimpses of Onyx’s face, noting his dark cloak stirring in the wind, broad shoulders set, gaze fixed ahead as though he already sees what lies beyond the next ridge. This part of Solaris, for all its strangeness, fits him. Or perhaps he fits it. The similarities are subtle; hard edges to certain parts of the landscape, concealed light in unexpected places. The same unsettling ability to be both forbidding and beautiful depending on how long one is foolish enough to stare.

I immediately resent the comparison I’ve just made in my mind. Not because it’s wrong, but because it feels too close to admiration. And I do NOT admire this man. Though I did witness a softer side of him, he is the captain of the king’s Shadow Guard. And he was sent to find me. I should be disturbed, enraged—anything but relaxed as I navigate this land with him. But I’m not—and that alone may be my first mistake.

* * *

After what feels like hours, the road curves along a high ridge, and the world seems to open all at once. At first I think the mountain ahead is only that—a mountain, black and immense. Then I see it.

Andell rises on the horizon, right behind the mountains, and my breath catches. I can practically feel the city before my eyes can take it in. There’s magic here. And it is—overwhelming.

Towers spear upward from its face, carved so seamlessly into the rock that I can’t tell where the natural mountain ends and the work of human hands begins. High walls coil around the lower city in dark terraces, following the shape of the cliffs as though they had grown there rather than been built. Large bridges arch between spires and windows glimmer like scattered stars. Near the summit, a structure vast enough to make the rest seem small looms against the sky with the stillness of something eternal.

It is without a doubt the most beautiful architecture I have ever seen—and the sight of it fills me with such immediate dread that my stomach knots around itself.

Beside me, Onyx says nothing.

I don’t look at him. I can’t. My eyes are fixed on the city rising higher and higher the longer I stare, on the impossible scale of it, and the cold promise of what waits for me once I enter. Somewhere inside those walls waits the king I have spent my entire life hating and fearing. The man whose curse has consumed our continent. The king who has been hunting magic because of a curse placed on his bloodline.

The worst part is that after Lycar, after Otto, after everything I've seen with my own eyes these past few days, I no longer know where my life is leading—or if I'm meant to survive any of it. I think what terrifies me most is knowing the king has been obsessed with finding me, and I don't even know why.

The only thing I know for certain is that we’re riding toward him.

A chill settles over me, and I find myself wishing Otto had hidden me beneath the kitchen floorboards and lied about it.

CHAPTER 7

Itell myself I am staring because I have never seen a city before, and because Andell rises from the mountainside like something that should not exist. The kingdom spills across the cliffs beneath towering peaks, while at its heart stands a palace of polished black stone draped in silver banners. Its towers spear so high into the clouds they look as though they were carved to wound the sky itself. In truth, I haven’t seen a city before, especially one this—grand. I don't have the exact words to describe what I’m seeing right now, which is a shock in and of itself because I always have words.

I also can’t seem to look away from the city sprawling before me because something beneath my skin has begun to wake as if answering an unknown call, and I don’t care for the feeling at all. Andell feels— wrong. I can feel the suffocating weight of dark magic here, winding its way through the city and into my skin. I can’t help but wonder if it is the Shadow King himself that commands it.

A prickling sensation crawls up my spine and stings in certain places, and I feel a headache beginning to blossom at my temples. It feels as if my magic is fighting to counteract this place but to no avail, and I know without a doubt that I will not leave this place willingly. I can feel Andell attempt to suck me in and claim me—but I fight it with every ounce of willpower I have, using my magic as a shield. I resist the pull, as the sting attempts to seep through my skin, searching for the source of my magic. Why would it do that? What in Illurine’s name is wrong with this Andell?

It feels like the city itself is breathing, and I have never felt anything like it. Then again—I haven’t been to many places, so I wouldn’t know if there are other places with this same atmosphere. Maybe it feels that way the closer you get.

Something that feels like a razor-sharp rope tugs at me, and my reaction is visceral. I let out a low grunt of pain, doubling over as the sensation brings me to my knees. What in the seven hells? What kind of reaction is my body having to this place? I wouldn’t know if it’s normal or not, because I’ve never felt magic of this magnitude before. It nearly takes my breath away.

“Lyra?” Onyx moves closer, dropping to one knee as he cups my face with his hand, scanning me for signs of injury. There aren’t any that he can visibly see, but I let him assess me anyway. Normally I wouldn’t let anyone get this close to me, let alone Onyx. I would have a smart remark, tell him to back the hell off and that I don’t need his help. But right now… gods, right now I’m finding it difficult to breathe let alone tell the man to stay away from me. I guess I do need his help after all.

My eyes meet his for a brief moment before I shut them tightly, fighting the headache that now has a roaring pulse. I can feel the threat of an oncoming blackout, and know I must look exactly how I feel because the expression on Onyx’s face is one of genuine concern—a look that I’ve never seen cross his face. So he laughs, and has other expressions besides stoic and bored— what a revelation with horrible timing.

“What’s wrong?” He’s touching my face, fingers moving to check my pulse as his eyes roam frantically over my body.

“Onyx, this place….” I grab his shoulders for strength, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to meet his eyes. I try anyway. Our eyes meet and for one minute I see it—he genuinely cares if I’m okay. Not just because he was ordered to bring me to the palace unharmed, but because he isn’t as much of an asshole as he pretends to be. Or maybe he is; he’s just an asshole that happens to have a conscience.

“It’s the city’s magic—your body isn’t reacting well to it. Tell me what it feels like,” he demands, placing two hands on the sides of my face as he gently shakes me to keep me conscious. I stare into his eyes—gods they’re beautiful—and shake my head. I don’t think I’m capable of forming a coherent sentence. The city is kicking my ass right now.

“I—I can’t, Onyx,” I breathe between words, leaning into his broad chest to rest my head. “Gods, it hurts, what is this?”