Page 46 of Ignite the Infernos

If I can get back to King’s Keep on reasonable terms and rebuild some trust, I could start laying the groundwork for the others. It would allow us to truly divide and conquer, which is the conclusion I arrived at last night. However, Aeson will never trust me coming back to him willingly, and the Syphons will never trust me aligning with The Horde willingly. Which is why I’m here improvising.

Silently, I pick my way back down through the caves to test the light and see if it’s working. I step behind one of my favorite crystals, the one I’ve always thought looked like a big door. Enslee and I used to argue over it regularly back when we were kids fighting for every scrap of happiness and normalcy we could find.

I look out at the gleaming clusters and pillars scattered haphazardly all around, and I place myself on the circle etched into the ground. I look up, and exhilaration detonates like a racket bomb inside me. Every surface of the gleaming crystals in front of me shines with my reflection.

It’s like a mirror maze funhouse. Enslee discovered the effect one time when we were playing tag in here with Boshle and Kamay. I smile and my army of reflections smile too. I step away from the circle and the crystal door, and all of my reflections instantly disappear. There are several other spots in the caves capable of this infinity-mirror effect, and it feels like the perfect place to decide, once and for all, if Aeson is capable of truly seeing . . . me.

“Here,” a rumbled declaration sounds in the distance.

The cave’s acoustics carry the sound, and I recognize Karis’s voice. I wondered how he was doing after the wards attacked him. Tove acted quick enough, and I saw him chasing us through the scarafids and the gauntlet, but it’s good to hear him all the same.

“Her gloves,” Karis identifies, and then the crunch of a shattered windscreen under several people’s boots tells me he’s passing my little fender bender at the entrance.

“Whoa,” someone else marvels, but it’s too quiet to identify the owner, and my stomach tightens with anticipation.

They move like shadows into the maze. I can’t tell how many there are exactly. I’m tempted to find a vantage point that will let me do more than just listen, but I’m not dumb enough to press my luck.

I’m here, hiding and slinking around, because I need to assess what I’m dealing with before I fully commit to my improvised plan. If they’re just going to lock me up after they find me, then it won’t work. If Aeson’s written me off completely, if he’ll block access to the things I need out of anger and petty revenge, then I need to stick with the Syphons.

A deep, menacing rumble abruptly fills the caves, and just like before, I instantly know who it belongs to. Goose bumps crawl up my arms, and alarm skitters down my spine, while unease parks itself at my nape.

Aeson is here, and from the rage roiling in his guttural growl, I need to get the fuck out of here . . . now.

Chapter 21

Aeson

SHARP STONES DIG INTO THE soles of my feet, and wind beats angrily at my back. I shake out my arm, hoping it will banish the last vestiges of the Scream Eater’s phantom grip. My dragon fully recedes, leaving me standing on a rocky ledge barely big enough to shift from dragon to drake. Calling my scale armor, I roll out my shoulders now that they’re absent of wings.

Anticipation makes my skin tingle as I stride into the mouth of the cave, and Chastain lands on the ledge behind me to begin his shift back to a drake. I abandon the bright morning light for the dark interior of the cave, and my eyes adjust in a matter of blinks. Glass crunches under my boot, and I look down and notice a pummeled flier off to the side. Tendrils of smoke rise from the dead engine, and the body is damaged beyond repair. Not that they started out looking much better from what I observed while chasing them.

A growl crawls up my throat when I take in the full scene. I put a hand out and summon the heat from the two smoldering flashpoints, and the curling wisps of smoke immediately disappear.

What was Ever thinking flying around like her bones won’t break and her blood can’t spill? Rage surges through me at the shortsighted futility. The furious rumble reverberating in my chest grows until some of the crystals deeper in the cave begin to hum with the resonance of it. A frigid flash of foreboding spikes through my chest, and I abruptly cut off the sound.

Ever, I instantly recognize. Then a keen sense of urgency trickles through the leak in our bond, and I’m once again flooded with fury because I know exactly what she’s doing.

“Ever fucking Tenebrae,” I snarl into the cave. “Stop. Running!”

The command echoes loudly around the cavern, and I like the besieging effect it intones. Silence gradually fills the enormous cave as my decree dies off, and my Wing and I listen for the slightest sound that could help us pinpoint the direction the Syphon is fleeing in.

“Well . . . that’s not my name,” a velvety voice declares from the void, and shock renders me a statue as Ever’s words wash over me like a sultry promise. “And I’d like to point out all of the times you’ve tried to order me around, Commander Noctis, and then invite you to consider all the ways it didn’t go well for you.”

Behind me, Chastain gives a little cough, but it does nothing to cover up the laugh he’s trying to swallow.

I level him with an unamused look. “Go stand guard outside,” I order, and his smile dies a quick death before he turns and walks out of the caves.

“Someone needs a nap,” Ever announces, and I can’t tell where her voice is coming from.

Signaling to Ogdan, Jori, Karis, and Tove, I direct them to spread out and start trying to track her. I need to keep her talking, but suddenly, I can’t think of what to say. I’m torn between demanding answers and throttling her. I also wouldn’t be opposed to locking her up for a few hundred years so she can never pull something like this again, but it would be a mistake to lead with any of that.

“It appears you had a craving for road pancakes again, judging by the state of your flier back there,” I observe, and then bite back a groan. Why the fuck are we always talking about road pancakes?

“Breakfast of champions,” Ever’s disembodied voice croons.

Her throaty tone climbs into my chest and nestles low in my gut, and I have to take a moment to remind myself of a few things: that same throaty tone has lied straight to my face and cannot be trusted, and the only reason I’m hearing it right now is because this is what Ever does when she’s trapped—she tries to talk her way out of it.

Movement in my periphery has me swinging around, but all I find is my reflection in a towering pillar. I exhale a deep breath and urge my pounding heart to stand down. I step onto a small path that veers off to the right and begin searching every nook and cranny for my mate.