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I flexed my fist, imagining the Sword of Whispers in my hand now, carving through the stone walls to get to Ava. A drop of water slid down my temple.
If the old gods had chosen me as their anointed king, they wouldn’t simply leave me here to die, would they?
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, remembering Ava trying to crawl for me when we’d been ambushed. She’d been attempting to get the darts out of my back.
Twilight was falling, and the faintest tinges of violet and gold shone through the scarlet sky above. We called this time the gloaming, when a fae could travel more easily between worlds. This was the best time of day to appeal to the old gods.
My magic flickered, burning a little brighter, the color of dusk.
My body ached, and I leaned back against the wall, resting my head. I could imagine Ava leaning against the other side of the same wall with her beautiful, curved horns.
In my dreams, I often had the antlers of Cernunnos, as I had before the coronation. The stag could travel between the worlds. I glanced up at the flecks of mauve twilight between the red leaves, and the flame of my magic rose a little more.
Cold magic slid through my veins, and the image of the Sword of Whispers ignited like a beacon in mythoughts. I’d only used it once before, and it had etched its permanent mark on my soul. I hadn’t allowed it to drive me mad.
Centuries ago, King Caerleon had personally executed one traitor after another using the Sword of Whispers. When he ran out of traitors, he found new ones, more and more, until he simply stalked the streets of Faerie. He’d dabbled in dark magic, raising a ferocious dragon named the Sinach from the mountains. When King Caerleon grew bored of killing by sword, he used the Sinach to roast people, and Faerie had descended into a violent and bloody age known as The Anarchy.
I’d never wanted to use the sword. But now? This was the perfect moment.
A cool wind rushed through the cell from the boughs above. Even though it was still warm in my cell, snow began to swirl in the air. I felt the last of the gods’ magic ignite in my chest, and I whispered the words to create a portal. Like a stag, I’d shift between realms. Cool air slid around me, and the snow started falling more heavily.
An icy wind swept the snow through the air and whirled before me, a vortex of white that slowly opened to expose a dark gap in the center. My heart slammed against my ribs.
My chest unclenched. Thank the gods, the opening was twelve inches across and beamed with a pale blue light, just large enough for what I needed. I reached through the opening, my arm brushing the edges of the portal, hard and cold as ice.
I spied the sword, an obsidian hilt and a scabbard of black leather. Legend said the death god had created the sword, hiding one of his arrows in the pommel and carving his hounds upon the dark stone hilt. As I gripped it, I felt his shadowy power course through me.
I pulled the sword and the scabbard into the Court of Sorrows with me, and the portal closed again.
With the sword in my hand, the intoxicating voices of the gods whispered around me in their divine language. I closed my eyes with a whispered thanks to the old gods in their native tongue, a language spoken by gods and kings alone.
I’m coming for you, Ava.
Gripping the hilt in both hands, I swung the sword, slicing through the thick walls, one after another. I carved doors for myself. To her.
Until at last, I saw her, waking from a deep sleep. She was covered in dust from the stones.
And literally nothing else.
8
AVA
Iwas sure a nightmare had come to life as the walls started shaking and a sharp blade pierced the stone, hacking an opening through the thick wall.
Debris filled the air, and the sound of steel against rock echoed around me.
In the bloom of dust, I caught a glimpse of a muscled arm and golden skin, tattoos swirling over a bicep that I recognized.
My heart leaped. Was this real?
Torin appeared in the opening, his tattooed chest coated in gray dust. He looked down at me, his pale eyes beaming with an unearthly light.
Maybe it was the dehydration and general delirium, but he looked so much like a god towering above me that I held my breath. He was a bruised and bloodied god, but a god nonetheless.
How was he still so strong after the past few days in here?
His gaze slid slowly over me, and I remembered thatI was still completely naked. I’d left my dress to dry after cleaning it.
