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Saga would pay the price.
“Ari.” Stieg came to my side. “We’re not leaving here without any of them.”
He gave me a knowing look, as if reading my every thought. I parted my lips and my jaw ached. All this time, I’d been grinding my teeth and hadn’t realized. No doubt I’d looked rather murderous, lost in all the dreary thoughts.
“Pick her over me, Stieg,” I whispered. “If it comes to that, I’m asking as a friend, pick her over me.”
“I’ll pick you both.” He clapped a hand between my shoulders and fell back, a signal he wasn’t going to argue the point.
“Here.” Hodag said a hundred paces further. “Soft soil. Lots of roots.” The troll closed her beady eyes and smiled. “Starling is close. Smell her sweetness.”
I blew out a long breath and gave the troll a nod. “Show off your magnificence, dear Hodag.”
With careful strokes, Hodag dug above our heads. The soil was black and rich. The musk of damp bark and dewy blossoms filled the tunnel when golden light broke as the hole widened. A simple opening as wide as Stieg’s shoulders to maneuver through.
Hodag stepped back, brushing her wide palms as her claws retracted. She beamed. “Ready, sweetling.”
One by one we pulled ourselves through without a sound. I remained crouched. The house was covered in domed glass. Air trapped in humid waves, instantly drawing a sweat to my brow. Ferns and towering, sweet cherry trees loomed over us. The center point of the botanical house was made of blooms and trees that shielded us from the panes where Davorin’s guards would be standing watch.
A creek carved through the spongy grass. Silver veins carved through strange blue flowers, like starlight rose from the soil.
A smooth, flat, stone path followed the bend of the water. The botanical house was a sprawling garden rich in flowery shrubs and trees unique to the Court of Stars. Willows with silver leaves as though locked in a permafrost, night blooms with black petals and stunning golden centers that only bloomed beneath moonlight, bowers coated in ivy vines, and benches with purple moss marked the dips and bends in the landscape.
What might’ve been a beautiful refuge was now a lovely prison.
“Spread out,” I said. “Keep low and clear of the outer walls. We find Eryka first. Any others you can get back through the burrow, do so.”
We hooded our heads and divided in every direction. Hagen paired with me. We took the route downstream, toward wildflower meadows made of sparkling white flowers of all sizes. An enclosed hut was in the center. Sod made the angled roof, and vines with black and white grapes hung over the edge.
Hagen drew his sword, I took out a knife. Candlelight danced through the small panes of the windows as we rounded for a door.
“Damn the bleeding gods.” The curse slid out when we reached the front of the hut. My stomach turned in sick. Hanging by thick ropes on either side of the door were both ladies of the star court.
Hagen hooked his elbow around his nose. Even surrounded by fragrant blooms, the smell of rot burned. Celeste and Iris had been dead for days.
A touch of foreboding stabbed through my chest. It didn’t bode well to have the rulers of the star court dead and hope to find Eryka well.
I tightened my jaw, gave a quick nod to Hagen, and together we rammed into the door.
It burst open too easily and spat us both onto the ground in a wretchedly ungraceful way. A few squeaks of surprise answered us.
“I thought you’d come.”
My breath stilled. I scrambled to my knees and faced Eryka. The princess stood in the center of the room. Dressed in a sheer dress, chains on her ankles, and one around her neck. A green, pulpy bruise swelled around her left eye. She’d been struck in the mouth if the blood on her inner lips was any indication. Bits of her hair had been cut and yanked out, but still she smiled, tears in her eyes.
“I thought you’d come. Didn’t know for sure since . . . since the stars are quiet lately.” Her voice quivered and tears fell when Hagen tossed back his hood. “Daj, you came for me. I mean, I hope I can call you Daj because . . .” Eryka glanced quickly at the open doorway. “Because, well, I don’t really have anyone left to call a maj or a daj, so I thought—”
Hagen had her in his arms in the next breath and let her sob. He bent his chin and kissed the top of her matted hair. “Girl, you call me anything you want.”
“He . . . he killed them.”
“I know.” Hagen tightened his hold around her bruised shoulders. “He’ll pay for it.”
Behind Eryka a few women huddled close together. Most were forest fae, a few pale eyed star fae. There were one or two from the Court of Hearts with their verdant eyes and auburn hair to their waists.
My eyes fell to the crying girl, no older than Princess Signe had been, and the woman who stroked her hair in the corner.
Yarrow’s eyes were once like autumn, golden and round as an owl. Light had dimmed in the serpent lady’s countenance. Now, her hair fell in tangles, her sun-kissed skin was pale, almost jaundiced with the yellow tinge. Her skirt was soaked in blood, unwashed no doubt since she bore her latest child. Yet, she still tried to comfort her daughter, dressed in strips of fabric over her girlish figure.
