Page 174 of Tale of the Heart Queen

His breath solidified into lead, and he nearly dropped the girl, but he clung on, determined to barter Rachel’s way out of here. After centuries of regretting his choices, Rion no longer cared about power or magic. All he wanted was her.

Herric smirked and leaned forward, placing a finger under Rachel’s chin and tipping her face up. She stared at her master, unblinking.

Rion’s heart felt like it turned to ash, burning with the ardent fury of his need. She was exactly as he remembered.

“Rachel,” he choked out, and her eyes turned to him. They were endless. Dark pools of light reflecting off a still pond under a full moon.

He felt everything in that moment: the years he had spent missing her, the mistakes he’d carried in his chest, cracking his ribs. This was his chance to start over, to finally have the life he’d given up almost three hundred years ago.

Rion wanted to toss the girl down and wrap Rachel in his arms, but he resisted the urge to give in to his desires. He had to think clearly. He had to play this wisely.

Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze away to find Herric still smirking.

“Is this who you were after?” he asked, as though he didn’t already know.

“I bring the girl,” Rion said with a knot wedged in his throat, deflecting the question.

“I see you bring someone,” Herric said. “Turn around. I want to be sure it’s her.”

Rion hesitated but then did what he asked, facing the hundreds of gawkers who continued to stare at him like he was a fresh steak tossed into a lion pit. After a pause, Rion heard the echoing click of footsteps. Before Herric could get too close, Rion swung around. He held up a hand and retreated a few paces, consciously aware of the crowd behind him inching closer.

“Stay back. I have some conditions before I release her to you.”

Herric arched a brow and lifted his hands in surrender.

“I only want to see her face,” he said. “Then you may tell me your conditions.”

Rion nodded as he waited for Herric to loop around before he lifted the girl’s hair.

“So like Amara,” he said softly. “Remarkable.”

Herric circled to Rion’s other side and returned to his dais, spinning around and falling onto his throne before crossing his legs with a flourish.

“So tell me then, what do you want?” He gestured to Rachel. “Her, I presume?”

“Yes. I ask that she be returned with me to the surface.”

Herric threw his head back and laughed, the sound ricocheting off the cavernous ceiling until it sounded like a thousand Lords of the Underworld mocking his utter stupidity.

“The surface?” Herric asked with a gleeful spark in his eyes.

“Yes,” Rion said, squirming under the girl’s weight. He couldn’t wait to get her off him, but he couldn’t release her yet.

“But you realize she is dead.”

“Surely someone as powerful as you can rectify that.”

Herric laughed again, steepling his fingers together and studying Rion like he was a bug.

“You came to bargain with me? Are you . . . a fool?”

Rion didn’t answer, and Herric stared at him for so long that the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Suddenly, he became aware of his position. He was alone, surrounded by the dead, as they gathered behind him, creeping forward, pressing into his space.

Herric chuckled as Rion’s gaze swept around the room. He was a fool. What had he been thinking coming to the Underworld with his demands?

In his desperation, in his drunken haze, in the splinters of his broken mind, he had walked in here thinking he held any sort of power. He realized then how grievously wrong he’d played this. He’d become so used to power that he’d forgotten he would have none to speak of here.

“The ark,” he croaked. “I left it in the Keep.”