Page 149 of A Thief Among Fae

It’s utterly terrifying.

At once, the cavern is silent.

Desmond sinks onto his knees. He’s pale, sweating, and staring at his shaking hands in shock.

Auri kneels beside him. “It’s been too long since I saw you use your power.” She hesitates, grimacing as though already regretting what she’s about to say. “I know you despise it, but General Vale needs you on the front lines. Your kingdom needs you. Avedor wouldn’t stand a chance against us if you’d commit to using it.”

“Don’t call her that!” Desmond snaps.

Auri glares at him. “Deitra outranks you as a general and as a royal, whether you like it or not.”

“This power is wrong,” he argues, his voice shaking with bitterness. “It’s sacrilege to Danu. It goes against everything the High Court is supposed to stand for!”

The shout echoes through the chamber. I start to speak, to stop Auri from pushing him further, but Finnian grabs my arm in warning. The look in his dark eyes reads stay out of this.

“Get it together, Desmond. This is why Deitra ordered me to accompany you,” Auri says.

His jaw sets, hands clenching so tight they tremble.

Then Auri sighs. She gently lays her hand on his shoulder. “You freed those draugr’s souls from their bodies. They can move on to the afterlife because of you.”

He shakes his head. “They never would’ve been bound in the first place if it weren’t for a necromancer.”

“All magic can be used for good or evil.” Her smile is sorrowful. “You used it to save my life, didn’t you? And. . .” She looks at me. “You used it to save hers.”

Desmond stills. His gaze finds mine, and his expression softens. The panic ebbs into relief, and a single thought flows through the bond, so certain it makes my chest tighten. She’s alive. And whatever it cost me—I would do it a thousand times over.

Then they both stand.

Desmond strides through the chamber with unwavering purpose, as though his grief is now nothing more than a discarded cloak. He stops before a gigantic, arched door at the end of the cavern. Then he frowns. “It’s warded, so I can’t sense anything beyond it.”

Finnian groans. “Please, no more draugr. And no more traps, either. I don’t want to lose another finger.”

“If the chasm was the final test, the treasure should be beyond that door,” I tell them. We’re close. I feel it in my gut.

“I wish Nikolai were here,” Finnian says. “It’s warded thicker than a bog. What do we do? Touch it?”

I answer, “We check for⁠—”

Auri touches the door.

“—traps.”

My stomach lodges into my throat, but by some miracle, the wards fall away like shimmering cobwebs. The door disappears, revealing a large chamber. Mage lights flare, and I draw a breath at the sight of the cache inside.

Ancient urns stand in tidy rows. Tools inlaid with silver and gold are arranged atop a stone table, and chalices gleam on pedestals. Coffins are set into the walls, undisturbed. Other raiders have never made it this far. Not until us.

I pinch myself just to be sure it’s all real.

Desmond, of course, looks at the engraved writing on the wall first. “This isn’t the king’s chamber.”

“So we’ll find even more treasure?” I grab an urn and pour the jewelry inside into my bottomless rucksack. Then I pause, staring at Desmond.

“What?” he asks.

“Aren’t you going to lecture me?” I tease him. “You know, call me greedy and sacrilegious?”

He laughs. “A deal is a deal. I’ll keep my remarks to myself.” Then he winks.