Chapter 32

A ll too soon, Frima’s soft voice called through the bars it he door. “Let’s go, Reyna.”

I got to my feet, hugging first Kara, then Lhoris.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Be safe,” said Lhoris.

“Die trying,” I answered him with a smile.

As Frima and I walked along the quiet corridors I felt surprisingly ready for whatever was coming next. I had a full belly, my friends were safe, and I wanted to know more the statues. And possibly more about myself.

Thinking about the Prince caused an uneasy feeling to invade my determination though, Lhoris’ hard eyes a warning in my mind.

My mentor was right.

Of course I couldn’t trust Prince Mazrith. It was just a fae spell that made me react so viscerally to him. And the fact that he had not been cruel to any of us yet was because he needed my help, and he needed me strong and healthy.

I needed to remember that whenever that accursed dream floated into my head. Fucking fae wine.

“Did you enjoy seeing your friends?” Frima asked me, pulling me from my thoughts.

“They are being treated well,” I replied. I wasn’t going to let her draw me in.

“As you were told they would be.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re not going to grace me with your gratitude?”

“You said I had Mazrith to thank.”

She tipped one shoulder up. “True. I’ll have to find another way to earn your precious manners.”

Annoyance pricked at me. “You expect thralls to be polite to you, but it means nothing. At least when I say it, it matters.”

She chuckled. “You sound like Maz.”

I glared at her as we rounded the corner into the raven room corridor.

“Get your tools, Maz will be along for you in a while,” she said when we got to my door, pushing it open.

“You’re dying to ask me where he’s taking me, aren’t you?” I said as I stepped into my room.

She kept her face even, but I saw her eyes twitch. “He’ll tell me when he needs me to know.” She slammed the door shut harder than she needed to, and I wondered if baiting her was a good idea.

Sighing, I made my way to the bathing chamber, kicking the door open.

I froze.

A snake as big as my arm slithered over the edge of the tub. And it was no shadow snake. It was as bright blue as the water snake had been, with rings of white circling its thick body. It hissed as it writhed forward, flicking out a forked tongue.

Instinct kicked in, and I slammed the door shut again, scooting backward. Keeping my eyes fixed on the bathing chamber door, I kept stepping backward until I reached the main door to my room.

Banging on it hard, I yelled.

“Anyone there? There’s a snake in my room, and he doesn't look friendly!”

There was no answer.

A soft thud sounded against the bathing chamber door, and then it creaked open. Foot after foot of blue scales emerged as the snake slithered out, and my pulse began to race. How fucking long was this thing?

I banged harder on the door. “Hello? Anyone out there?”

The snake’s eyes were fixed on me, and they were as black as night. I groped to my side for anything that I could use to defend myself, but found nothing. The torches in the wall sconces were too high for me to reach, and the snake was between me and the burning embers in the fireplace.

I glanced at the bed and saw the heavy tool roll. There were scalpels in there, and a small hammer. I didn’t know how much damage they could do to a snake that size, or how well I would be able to defend myself with them, but they would be better than nothing.

Taking a slow step sideways, I kept my eyes glued to the snake. It stopped moving, instead lifting its head off the ground and swinging it from side to side, tasting the air.

I stepped again, reaching out toward my bed and the tool roll. The snake darted forward, so fast it was a bright blue blur. I dove onto the bed, rolling as I hit the mattress.

But I’d been too slow.

I felt a searing hot pain in my foot, and then I was tugged backward hard. I scrabbled at the blankets as I was dragged back across the bed, trying to grab at the tool roll and failing to grasp it. The pain in my foot was agony, white hot and spreading fast up my shin.

I hit the stone floor with a bang and swiveled around, trying to get free of the snake’s grip. But its fangs were deep in my foot, and every time I tugged the pain became unbearable.

I turned wildly, struggling into a sitting position, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. The pain in my foot was so intense it was making my eyes stream, and my head fog.

The snake’s body swung around, tail crashing into my ribs.

I cried out and doubled over before the tail came down on me again, this time across my shoulders.

A bang in the distance was followed by the muffled sound of someone calling my name.

“Reyna?”

“Help!” I screamed. The door handle rattled, but the door stayed shut.

The snake’s tail whipped around again, catching me hard enough to knock me onto my side. The movement shifted my leg, and with it my foot. I felt the flesh tear, and everything in my vision swam as pain like nothing I’d ever felt tore through me.

I saw another flash of bright blue as the tail came toward my face, and barely got my arms up in time to block it. The banging on the door faded to nothing, replaced by the sound of my own blood pounding in my ears. Black dots swam before me, and the pain began to ebb away.

I was getting sleepy.

A new noise drifted through to me. A male voice? My eyelids drooped, and delicious warmth washed over me.

A spasm of pain cut through my cozy haze, and in my blurry vision I saw something bright blue rising through the air, surrounded by dark smoke. Or was it shadows?

My body jolted, and then I was rising too. Someone was carrying me, I thought dimly.

The sleepiness came and went for what could have been minutes, or hours.

I knew on occasion that something hurt, and wished the warmth would return. But whenever it did, a dark-haired figure with purple streaks slapped me on my cheeks and returned me to the uncomfortable place.

I tried to speak a few times, but no sound came out. It didn’t matter. All I wanted to say was that I was tired. That they should leave me alone.

A number of times I was given something bitter to drink. Swallowing didn’t really work, and hands on my shoulders moved me around roughly until I could feel the liquid rolling down my throat, like the water in the root-rivers, rushing along their wooden channels.

I began to dream about rivers. Endless rivers, flowing and swirling around a mighty tree. But then the rivers changed. They were red. Red with blood. And rising from the water, everywhere I looked, were the Starved Ones.