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Lidia gave him a sidelong look, pushing off the stone wall of the balcony. “You’re a fool not to,” she said quietly, striding for the archway into the castle proper. “It will be your doom. And Avallen’s.”
Morven snarled, “Is that a threat?”
Lidia kept walking, leaving her enemy and the miserable dawn behind. “Just some professional advice.”
* * *
“So all that talk, all those myths and hand-wringing about the Cave of Princes,” Hunt said to Bryce, sweating lightly from their hours-long trek across the rolling fields to this craggy cluster of hills, the castle now a lone spike on the horizon behind them, “and this is it?”
Bryce looked around. “Underwhelming, isn’t it?”
The entrance to the cave was little more than a sliver between two boulders. Ancient, weatherworn runes were etched into the stones, but that was all that set this place apart from any other crack in the rock face.
That, and the tongue of mist slithering out from the gloom.
“Morven needs a decorator,” Tharion said, peering into the darkness beyond. “I think he could really move beyond his ancestors’ shadows-and-misery theme.”
“This is how he likes it,” Sathia said. “The way Avallen was when it was first built—right after the First Wars ended. His father kept it that way, and his father before him, going all the way back to Pelias himself.”
Hunt swapped a look with Bryce. That was precisely why they’d come. If there was a place any bit of truth might be preserved, it was here. He didn’t relish the thought of going into a cave; some intrinsic part of him bucked at the idea of being so far from the wind, so far belowground, trapped once again. But he forced himself past the bolt of fear and dread and said to Sathia, “Do you have any idea how the mists keep the Asteri out of Avallen?” She hadn’t volunteered the information yesterday, but maybe it was because they hadn’t thought to ask.
“No,” Sathia said. “The rumor is that the magic of the mists is so old, it predates even the Asteri’s arrival.”
“Well,” Tharion said, gesturing dramatically, “ladies first, Legs.”
“Such chivalry,” Bryce retorted.
“You’re the one with a built-in flashlight,” Hunt reminded her.
She rolled her eyes and said to a wary Sathia, “Word of advice: don’t let them push you around.”
“I won’t,” Sathia said. For some reason, Hunt believed her.
Bryce was looking at Flynn’s sister as if she was thinking the same thing. “It’s good to have another female around here.” She nodded to Baxian, Tharion, and Hunt. “The Alphahole Club was getting too crowded for my liking.”
Bryce halted at the line between light and shadow. The mist trickling along the cave floor reached for her pink sneakers with white, curving claws. Her starlight didn’t pierce the darkness beyond a few feet ahead. It only illuminated a thicker cloud of mist. Masking any threats waiting beyond.
She couldn’t bring herself to cross that line.
“This place feels wrong,” Baxian murmured, coming up beside Bryce.
“Here’s hoping we see daylight again,” Tharion said with equal quiet from a step behind them.
“We will,” Hunt said, adjusting the heavy pack strapped between his wings. “Nothing to worry about except some ghouls. And wraiths. And ‘scary shit,’ Ruhn claimed.”
“Oh, just that,” Bryce said, throwing him a wry glance. She added to Sathia, pointing to the spires barely poking over the green horizon, “It’s not too late to head back to the castle.”
“I’m not going to sit around with those mind-reading bastards lurking about,” Sathia hissed.
They all turned toward her.
“Did something … happen?” Hunt asked carefully. Tharion was watching her closely.
“I’m not going to be left alone in that castle,” Sathia insisted, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers digging into her white sweater, and Bryce knew she didn’t want to discuss it further.
“Fair enough,” Hunt said, reading Sathia’s tone, too. “But Ruhn warned me that most of what’s in here is old, and wicked, and likes to drink blood. And eat souls. I’m not sure of the order, though.”
“Sounds like your run-of-the-mill Fae nobility, then,” Bryce said, hefting her heavy pack higher. She winked at Sathia. “You’ll be right at home.”
