Page 90 of Bride of Ash & Dust

I exhale slowly. My heart beats against the inside of my chest. The man’s words feel like a weight pressing down on my shoulders.

The prince ain’t leaving until the snake is dead.

The growing night feels very cold. My wrists burn where I rubbed them raw to escape the ropes, and every other part of my body aches from my frantic run through the mountains. I told myself I was coming back here to look for Anura, because she said she would meet us at the mine.

But why in the gods’ many names would I expect Anura to be here after I was abducted? Wouldn’t she be turned away, or worse?

Maybe I came here to warn her, some sad little part of my heart whispers. But the weight of the soldier’s words presses into me, and I know that’s not the truth.

No. I came back here for my husband.

I press my hands to my face and shiver. Gods help me, I’m an idiot. How can I help the snake of Vsenrog? What could I possibly do against Prince Syvan and his soldiers? Why would I even want to help him?

And why didn’t I go back to the castle of Marion, where I could have at least warned Elrick and my father about what’s coming?

I bite down on my finger to keep my tears from spilling down my cheeks. The men’s voices are distant now, and there’s an occasional flare of light between the trees that suggests they’re lighting the lamps in the tents.

I come to my feet as slowly and quietly as I can. The moon is rising through the trees, casting her thin, silver light over the forest floor. It only takes me a moment to find the path the men must have taken when they passed me.

Well. It’s too late to go back to the palace of Marion now.

I take a deep breath and start to climb the path toward the mine.

Chapter 50

Zarek

THE PRINCE OF DUNGAL

Fyrris ignores me for what feels like a long time. I shift on the chair as various parts of my body go numb. The manacles around my wrists are cold and heavy, but the chains are loose enough to allow me some freedom of movement.

I could, possibly, try to attack the man in the white robes. But something about the way he moves makes me think that would be a bad idea. Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. There’s only one way out of this hole, and it’s guarded by Syvan and his soldiers.

Fyrris mutters under his breath as he walks back and forth between the rock wall, the table, and the strange assortment of metal wires strung across the stone.

The air shifts and moves around him in a strange way. Sometimes, when he walks past me, my skin prickles and pulls tight. Other times, when he moves one of the silver wires, I swear I feel the tug somewhere deep inside of me. Maybe this is a common reaction to being about to die.

“What’s all this for?” I finally ask, after he’s turned one of the wires on one of the metal poles embedded in the stone for what must be the tenth time.

Fyrris snorts dismissively, like I couldn’t possibly be expected to understand his answer. I shift in the chair, trying to bring some circulation back to my leg.

“I’m guessing it’s not about gold,” I continue.

“Gold!” Fyrris snaps, as if I’ve just insulted him. He spins to glare at me. His eyes look very dark above the blinding white of his robes. “Do I look like a miner to you?”

I grin at him like we’re old friends. “Then what is it about?” I ask.

My chest feels tight. I can see exactly one way that I might survive this disaster. It’s a horrible risk, but hells, isn’t it worth taking the shot?

“This?” Fyrris snorts again, then runs his hand down the stone wall in a gesture that’s almost loving. “It’s well beyond your comprehension.”

“You told Prince Syvan you need me,” I say, light and easy, like we’re talking about the weather or which lady in the marketplace has the nicest tits. “What for?”

Fyrris turns back to me and shakes his head. “Such a pity,” he says. “You could have been something, you know. If the Towers still stood.”

He comes closer, then puts his hand in his pocket. A chill pulls my skin tight.

“Royal blood,” I say. My voice sounds a bit pinched. I clear my throat, then start again. “That’s what you said. The ritual specifies royal blood. Isn’t that right?”