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“Eryka,” I whispered.Within a snake’s mouth lies a key to the past.Beyond the gates of stars resides the final task.I spun on him, hands on his arms. “A snake’s mouth.”
“I’m fond of anything to do with mouths and you, but you’ve lost me,” he said.
“No. A snake’s mouth.” I pointed at Hawthorne, then called to Bjorn. “See if something is in his mouth.”
Blood rushed to my head when Bjorn arranged for half a dozen blood fae watchers to approach the body. Twenty breaths, fifty. They crouched low, blades extended, linen masks hiding their features, and exited the safety of the gates. Sixty breaths, a hundred. Finally, the watchers reached Hawthorne. For a moment they conversed with one another before a center man reached up and slowly slid one finger into the serpent lord’s mouth.
My stomach lurched when he returned with a bloody, folded parchment.
Bjorn whistled sharply and called them back.
“Saga,” Ari said, voice low. “Whatever they found, we agree no reckless heroism, like sacrificing ourselves for some ridiculous greater good.”
My lips trembled. A missive could mean anything, but likely it was a trick of Davorin. Some threat he knew would gorge into my heart and torment me until I caved. Sacrifice was acceptable, so long as it was made for Ari’s life. He knew it, and I knew he felt the same.
We’d tear the isles to pieces, no matter the casualties, to keep each other breathing.
Preferably, breathing together.
I hugged his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “Our moves from here are made together.”
He kissed the top of my head and went to greet the watchers at my side. Behind us, Gunnar struggled to stay upright, but no one told the prince to rest. With Eryka lost, it would’ve been a foolish argument. Instead, Hagen merely kept a steady hand on his son’s back. Calista followed, hugging her middle as though shielding herself from what was to come, but the fire in her eyes was returned.
The storyteller glared at the parchment as the center watcher handed it to me.
Ari placed his hand on the small of my back and read over my shoulder.
“He’s mad,” I whispered.
“No,” said Ari. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. I just want to know why.”
“What does it say?” Gunnar’s voice came clipped and anxious.
This would torment the prince, but there was no time to think of how to word it in a way that Gunnar might swallow the truth better. He was born in captivity, a warrior, a criminal, a killer. He’d stomach it like the rest of us.
“Our enemy has requested a barter. A moment of truce to make a trade at his stronghold at the next full moon in the Court of Stars,” I said, lifting my voice for the surrounding warriors to hear. “He is willing to return Princess Eryka—alive.”
Gunnar’s eyes shut. He clenched a fist. No mistake, he knew the price would be high, and braced for the rest.
“In return.” I swallowed. Ari gave me a nod of encouragement. When I lifted my chin, I looked nowhere but at Calista. “He wants you.”
“You’re not actually considering giving her up.” Stefan, awake and furious, paced beside the long table.
“Not in earnest,” Ari said. “We make him think we are.”
“You truly think he won’t anticipate being double crossed?” Stefan rolled his eyes and lit an herb roll. “He’s cunning and prepared for everything. Not to mention he has a vendetta against her.”
“Against Calista?” I arched a brow.
Stefan blew out a long puff of smoke. “Against folk like her. Your brother, and all that. I’m not sending her in there.”
“Didn’t know it was your choice, Stef.” Calista leaned onto the two back legs of the narrow chair she’d claimed and tapped one of her knives back and forth over her thighs. Much like she’d always done in her Raven Row tenement.
“I’m here to protect you,” he said. “And sending you into that madman’s stronghold is the furthest thing from protecting you. I’ll go. I’m meant to face this bastard.”
“Oh, really?” Ari said. “Why is that?”
“Call it a gut feeling.” Stefan took another long draw of his herb roll.
