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I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe I could kill her, but I could buy Tristan enough time to get Adele out of here…if there was even an exit to this hellhole. The Oracle magicked us into this chamber, and we hadn’t come through any door. But I couldn’t get through the deadly ward, not while the old spider was chanting with a savage intensity as if she was running out of time.
“What the fuck is happening?” Tristan crouched low as the tree roots hanging from the ceiling began to writhe. Thin, spidery roots thickened to the size of my wrist, driving down into the dirt beneath us until we were dodging those as well as falling dirt and stone. This small cave was about to collapse in on us and there was no escape.
“Finally.” The Oracle heaved herself up off the ground and scuttled to the wall separating us, stroking her claws down it, leaving glowing lines of iridescent light behind. “It is done.”
She was the wicked, ancient crone I remembered…and not.
Her form was changing, becoming leaner, longer, more elegant. Gnarled hands grew smooth and supple, her lined face changing to that of an old woman, then a goddess, white hair becoming a cascade of sleek black perfection.
She grinned, baring perfect white teeth, leaning close enough to the ward her throat hovered mere inches away from my fangs. “I shall meet Anaria to congratulate her on today’s victory. Perhaps she will find a way to rescue you from this place before your luck runs out.”
Then we plunged into a darkness so thick I cowered down, panic choking me. Tristan conjured up a handful of fire, the flare of light pushing back the darkness, illuminating Tristan’s face with a golden glow.
“The spider’s gone; there’s no way out.” He didn’t bother covering up the blatant fear in his voice, and like he said, the Oracle, and the magic holding us captive, had vanished.
“She can’t mean to leave us here,” Tristan added, his eyes wild as he scanned the tight space, filled with writhing, expanding roots.
“She did.” Adele eyed the roots twisting down between us, growing at an alarming rate. “If we aren’t crushed, I expect we’ll run out of air soon enough.” She laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “At least I’m not dying in Tempeste. And I’m not alone. I suppose that’s something.”
I lifted my head and sniffed. The stifling air was rife with magic, singing with power, but Adele was right, the air was already close and stuffy. I chuffed softly at Tristan’s fire and with a snap of his fingers, the light went out.
“Fine. No light and more air.” He groaned. “I don’t know which is worse. And if we do get out of here, the first thing I’m doing is putting an arrow through that bitch’s heart.”
There was a shuffling sound and his shoulder brushed against me, Adele crawling closer, her hands brushing through my fur. I took on her fragile weight as she snuggled into my side.
“We wait for Anaria,” she said softly. “If I know anything, it is that my daughter will come for us.”
44
ZORANDER
Leaves.
Those were leaves above me.
And the sound of rushing water…a river was close by.
I took a deep breath of humid forest air, drowning in the depths of a thousand different smells and tastes. Trees and water and small furtive animals, all mixed together to create the smell oflife.
So much spent magic hung in the air, everything coated with the unmistakable, delicate smell of amber-jasmine, as if this world had been painted with Anaria’s essence.
“You are my oldest friend. I will miss you every fucking day.”
I frowned, touching a finger to the fresh blood coating my chest, blood that was not mine. Blood that smelled of jasmine and amber. I tried and tried to pin down those words, that deep, familiar voice filled with so much anguish and rage.
Raziel. That had been Raz, but…why would he miss me when…
I brushed leaves off me, something tumbling off my chest. I picked up the small white stone, smooth as glass, squinting at the thing in utter confusion, then slipped it into my pocket. I never thought I’d ever feel this lost, as if I didn’t belong here.
Wherewashere, anyway?
I was wedged between two enormous tree roots, big enough I couldn’t see over them, but something—or someone—was rustling around to my right.
I found one knife, not my favorite, but this blade would cut just fine.
My muscles ached, weak with exhaustion, yet something new and alive pulsed at my center, my arms on fire as I pulled myself up, knife gripped in my sweating palm.
I was on my feet when the blade slid from my hand as I beheld the scene before me.
