Chapter 27

27

SELENE

T he sunlight was nearly blinding. I tugged my hood over my face just to block out the glare. It had been months since I’d ventured outside during morning hours, and the low winter sun cut straight into my line of sight. The heavy clouds had transformed into wispy fingers, and the chirping of birds rang out nearby. The vines that curled up the palace columns were heavy from the rain, and mud squelched beneath my boots.

I followed Hector to the rear of the palace, in the opposite direction of the amphitheatre and the steps leading down to the cove. He flew with furious attention, not bothering to check that I kept up the pace.

Behind the palace, a narrow path cut through a broken section in the fortress wall, surrounded by brush. I pushed my way onto it, thorny branches snatching at my cloak. And for a brief moment, I swore I could feel a pair of eyes on my back. I cast a glance behind me at the palace. Darkness filled the windows.

Unease churned my stomach. If anyone was watching me, I wouldn’t be able to see them from here.

Hector cawed.

I shivered and resumed my trek along the path. A wintry breeze gusted against me, and I tugged my cloak tighter around my shoulders, bent forward against the chill. The further we got from the palace, the higher and denser the trees grew, their trunks wide and twisting like a knotted fist. Soon enough, the buffeting wind eased to a gentle breeze, bringing with it the scent of pine and resin, shot through with honeysuckle.

Moments turned to an hour or more. Hector continued to forge onward, not once slowing down. But when the sun had climbed directly overhead, the raven finally slowed and darted down a side path. I followed after him, my cheeks warm and breath misting before me.

Through the trees, a flat, white marble building lazed beneath a moss-coated roof, surrounded by a damaged circular wall, its ruined chunks littering the ground. In the garden before it, broken columns were scattered here and there, where the busts of crumbling statues perched. Some were missing heads. Other heads had clung on and only the noses were missing.

All were broken in some way.

I drifted closer, following Hector toward a square arch held up by four columns that appeared much more intact than the rest. “What is this place?”

Whatever it was, it had long been forgotten. I moved to the nearest statue, slid my finger along the stone, and sniffed. The only scent that answered was dust. These had to be ruins, from the time before the Titans lived. I leaned closer to the statue, squinting at the pockmarked face. It was difficult to tell much about it with half the surface gone. Had this statue been crafted in the image of a vampire? A mortal? Or something else entirely?

Hector’s emphatic caw drew my attention away from the ruins. He hovered just outside the entrance, his powerful wings beating the air. Skeptically, my brow rose.

“You want me to go inside a crumbling building?”

He dove inside, and I had no choice but to follow. With a sigh, I jogged toward the building, only slowing when my boots hit the edge of the veranda. I passed between two stone pillars, the wind creaking as it pushed at my back, propelling me into the gloom.

A scuttling noise echoed from within the open door. Heart pulsing, I pulled my wooden dagger from the depths of my cloak and held it by my side, still hidden beneath the wool. I couldn’t imagine Hector would purposefully lead me to danger, but he might have not been aware of something lurking in the shadows.

Because there was something in here, all right. A gust of frigid air picked up the scent of blood and dirt, swirling around me as leaves danced in the wind. Shivering, I squared my shoulders and ventured inside.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, the shape of the room came into focus. There was a long stretch of hall that led to a marble archway. Another shuffling sounded from the room just beyond it, where faint light glowed from inside.

I crept closer, my hand tight around the dagger. Despite my focus on the room ahead, I couldn’t help but stare at the line of masks secured to the wall. They were faded and dull, but their smeared painted smiles still glistened eerily, as if they’d just feasted on mortal blood. There were dozens of them—so many the walls felt suffocatingly tight.

Teeth clenched, I approached the room at the end of the corridor, and decorative figures etched into the archway came into sharp relief. Grotesque shapes curled toward me, hands outstretched, membranous wings flared wide. They seemed to stare into the very soul of me.

“Hector,” I whispered as quietly as I could. My raven had clearly flown inside that room, but there was no sign of him, and I was starting to think this had been a terrible idea.

Another sound emerged from the darkness, this time much softer than the scuttling had been. A whimpering sob.

Frowning, I strode into the room and looked around. It was empty, save for a huddled figure chained to the far wall. Sunlight cut through a barred window, splashing onto the figure’s exposed legs. With a startled cry, she shuffled sideways to get away from it.

I inched closer, my heart in my throat. Frizzing silver hair hung into her gaunt face. She peered up at me with hollow eyes. When she spotted me, she shuddered and shuffled back, pressing herself tightly against the wall.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining things, that those masks outside had put some kind of spell on me. She couldn’t be here. It was impossible.

“Hestia?” I breathed.

“Please. Don’t hurt me.” She closed her eyes and jerked her head to the side, tears rolling down dirt-coated cheeks.

I pocketed my dagger and gently moved closer. When I knelt beside her, she flinched. Above us, Hector soared through the domed expanse, cawing mournfully.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I told her in as gentle of a voice as I could summon. Admittedly, it might not be that gentle. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d practiced much.

Her voice wobbled when she spoke. “But you’re a Titan. We put almost your entire race into a prison they can never escape.”

“And yet I have no grievances with you at all. You weren’t involved in that.”

She blinked up at me. “So you’re not the one who did this to me?”

I frowned. “Absolutely not. I thought you were dead.” Quickly, I filled her in on what had happened back at the palace. She only seemed to half-listen, her eyes focusing and unfocusing on the opposite wall. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see why.

More masks. Eyes were blackened. Smiles stretched wide. Some were painted orange and red, while others were the color of a midnight sky.

When I’d finished telling her the story, she sniffled. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why would someone abduct me and then make it look like I was dead?”

“I don’t know.”

What was more, it meant Hera was innocent—or as innocent as she could be. She hadn’t killed Hestia. Instead, she must have set it up to look like she had. Why?

I rocked back on my heels. Hera whimpered and sagged against her restraints. It was then I noticed the bloody marks on her wrists and the awkward way her left leg twisted beneath her. Blearily, her eyes fluttered shut. My gut churned. Something was wrong—more than just the captivity.

“Hestia, what exactly happened?” I asked her.

“The person who did this…they drugged me, I think.” Her words wheezed out of her. “It’s making it impossible for me to heal myself.”

Frowning, I examined the wound closer. Beneath the manacles, her skin was puckered and red, like she’d been burned. “You’ve been here like this for a few days. You need to feed.”

“They might come back,” she said sharply. “It’s daytime. That’s when they come.”

“Wait. When was the last time they came?”

“Yesterday.” Her eyes blurred. More tears tumbled down her face. “At least I think it was yesterday. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed.”

If they’d come here only yesterday, it couldn’t have been Hera. But if she wasn’t behind this…who the fuck was? Another monarch? If so, which one?

It was an unnerving thought. If one of the others had done this, they clearly had a plan. One that could very easily lead to the destruction of us all. And while I would be more than happy to watch the Thirteen Crowns implode, I’d likely go down, too.

“All right,” I said, more to myself than to Hestia, “our first step is getting some blood in you.”

Before she could object, I bit into the skin of my inner wrist, my canines slicing through the thinner skin there. Blood bloomed instantly. I lifted my wrist to her arm and pressed it against her lips. With a sharp intake of breath, Hestia clasped onto my arm and drank. Power hummed inside of me, sweeping through my veins to bleed into Hestia’s mouth. Her hand tightened on my arm; hunger drove her eyes to a deeper crimson—so deep they almost looked black.

After her ordeal, she was clearly starving. Desperation drove her to dig her teeth deeper into my skin, and a sharp pain lanced through my wrist.

Gently, I extracted my arm from her death grip. My blood fell like rain on the stone floor, and Hestia eagerly licked up what I spilled. I tugged my sleeve back over my arm, straightened my gown. By the time she rose, her eyes had cleared. That feverish twist of her lips had vanished, though my blood still coated her chin.

“Better?” I asked.

She rubbed her head, then glanced at her swollen wrists. “I’m not healing.”

I frowned. That wasn’t normal. Even mortals healed when they drank enough vampire blood, and Hestia had certainly had her fill. But her skin was still angry and burning red.

“It must be that poison.” I tried to wrack my brain for what it could be, but I’d never heard of anything that could poison a vampire this effectively. “What did it taste like?”

But before she could answer, a heavy clanking echoed through the domed room, as wicked of a warning as a snake’s deadly rattle. Footsteps pounded the stone. Everything within me went cold.

Someone had followed me here.

It might very well be whoever had taken Hestia captive.

And I had a sneaking suspicion they would not be pleased I’d found her.