Chapter 31

T he thick hem of my rough-spun peasant dress rubbed along my calves, making me cringe with each step, cheap, stiff leather shoes chafing my feet. Blisters burned along my toes as I navigated around boulders dotting the narrow mountain path, placed as obstacles to prevent riders and carts from making a comfortable journey to the top.

Earlier, when we began our ascent, Skrain had dismissed my suggestion of hiring outside help for our quest to find the ingredients and eventually defeat Aculeus.

Those whose blades and loyalty can be bought by me may be bought by another just as easily, he'd said.

He'd insisted that any mercenaries would be susceptible to the demon's bribery, and that he only trusted two people in this whole realm.

Me and Emily.

I scoffed as I thought of the head maid, left behind in our comfortable campsite in the desert valley. With a smug grin, she stated she'd miss us, but I bet she was relieved. I would've loved to sit around and read, too.

How long had we been walking?

Shielding my eyes with a hand, I glanced over my shoulder, finding the sun-burned road vacant.

After I agreed to the demon's terms, I'd expected him to pester me frequently, but he hadn't contacted me again. I chalked up his non-appearance to my husband's presence. Aculeus might've watched from a distance, but at least he couldn't torment me directly.

Since we reconciled, we were basically joined at the hip. And because Skrain could detect Aculeus if he came close, the demon wasn't exactly free to walk up to ask me how the plan was proceeding. Staying near to my husband had become both my greatest pleasure and a safety precaution, easily explained away by the rune on the back of my neck if Aculeus asked.

I drew the scarf covering my head deeper into my face. My long inhale of the simmering air came out in an annoyed sigh.

Skrain snickered. "You were never one for camping and hikes," he teased, wrapping an arm around my waist. Applying gentle pressure to my back, he sought to help me with the steep climb. "You're more the type for luxury, my little queen."

I shoved my elbow into his ribs, and he huffed in theatrical pain. His grin didn't fade, though.

"And you're sure we'll find the first ingredient up there?" I asked. "I don't want to wear these stupid clothes and make this stupid trek for nothing."

A shrug lifted Skrain's strong shoulders. "The monastery of the Wordless Creed is the only place where you might find the eternal silence of the faithful dead . I guess with those ethereal, abstract descriptions of the ingredients you told me about, the entire recipe might be up to interpretation. But one of the preserved tongues of the order's disciples makes the most sense."

With his free hand, he pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips. He took out a match, striking it on a boulder in passing.

"Well, you don't even know much more beyond the order's name," I said. "How can the Wordless Creed be such a mystery?"

"They're an extreme group. All of Xar'vath is heavily influenced by religion, but these folks … they're something else. Even the Emperor and the High Priest don't associate with them." He paused to light his cigarette, waving the match until the fire died, flicking it down the cliff to our left. "But because Dax'eia, the Goddess they worship, was indeed part of our pantheon once and the faithful are not allowed to spite the Gods, they just tolerate the Creed, leave them alone."

I rolled my eyes. "I guess cutting out your tongue in a vow of silence could be called extreme . But do they have to go down the route of renouncing all worldly riches and pleasures? I mean … no sex ? And do these humble clothes have to be so Hells damned uncomfortable? Will they even let me in if I wear my translation gem?" I rambled as I fiddled with the leather string around my neck, weighed down by the chunk of raw tourmaline I'd enchanted with a translation spell. "You told me they don't allow applicants to take any magical objects into the monastery."

"They'll have to make an exception," Skrain said casually. "How are you going to learn about their Goddess if you can't understand them? I also explained the situation in our letter of appeal." He patted his pocket.

I glanced at him, taking in his bland getup. It was strange to see him without all his jewelry, the pearls removed from his horns. He wore a plain brown tunic and trousers, plus boots that looked similarly stiff to mine, but even a king in rags was still a king. And to me, Skrain was the noblest man in this realm. I would've worshipped at his feet until my last breath.

Still, I wondered if he felt naked without his piercings. I sure did, even though I'd only had them for a short while. At least Skrain's poison had let them heal completely, and he assured me I'd have no issues putting them back in.

"I think you'll find the self-flagellation in the name of humility and cleansing one's heart far more uncomfortable than the clothes," he said cheerfully between big drags from the cigarette. "Though we know you get a kick out of a little whipping now and then, my darling wife."

A wave of heat welled from within me, competing with the sunshine on my face.

It was too easy for Skrain to make me blush. How could this still happen? I was aware that he knew about my tastes, so why was this getting me all flustered?

I cleared my throat, ignoring thoughts of him standing in our bedroom with his belt in his hand and how he?—

"We won't let it get to the point where we have to cut out our tongues, right?" I blurted, my gut churning.

"That's why Emily injected you with concentrated shroudgrass and veilweft root, and implanted that pretty dark gem under your skin." Skrain reached under my skirt, between my legs, digits drawing along my left inner thigh. He grinned as he slid over an oval, cherry-sized bump. "If everything goes to shit, you'll have to hurry and conjure up the invisibility enchantment you promised for our escape."

"Very funny." I slapped his hand away, trying not to smirk. "I'll have to cut out the jewel and boil down my blood to distill the herbal tincture before I can use it. Good luck with doing that in a hurry."

"We'll manage, my priceless treasure. Have you forgotten that we're unstoppable together?"

My smile finally broke through before fading again instantly. "I studied all the materials you gave me during our journey and read that no applicant has ever returned. Why not? They can't all want to stay."

Skrain shrugged again. "I couldn't tell you. Everything we do know about the Wordless Creed and their faith—the celibacy, the plain clothes and meals, the tongue preservation—comes from their public manifesto praising their Goddess."

I shook my head, grimacing. "Imagine never leaving that dusty old monastery except to silently hand out religious pamphlets in town and trade a little. Creators, and then they lug it up here on foot!"

"They don't exactly get a ton of people wanting to join, but I hope that means they'll accept foreigners. And according to my sources in the capital, there has been a small surge in interest, driven by a handful of impoverished nobles who found comfort in the teachings of Dax'eia. That's a great cover for us, though it might also mean the members of the Creed will be more suspicious and thorough in their examination of newcomers. It's important we deliver a convincing performance until we find the tongues."

"Do you want me to recite the tale of Dax'eia?" I asked. "Just to be sure?"

Skrain took one last huff of tobacco and tossed the cigarette away. He grasped my chin, stepping in front of me, blocking my path.

"No, my darling wife. But I need you to understand that I won't let any harm come to you."

He leaned down and sealed my lips with his. I chased his mouth, prying my tongue between his teeth, and he reciprocated quickly, humming a muted moan. I could have kissed him for hours, but Skrain pulled away, cupping my face.

"I'm serious, Kerys." His thumbs drew over my cheeks, stroking. "You're nervous, I know. I can't begin to guess what awaits us. But no matter what happens, no matter how dire our situation looks … I won't let anyone hurt you. I swear on our unborn child."

The sun might as well have shone from right within my ribcage. His oath filled me with ultimate trust, with so much joy, it felt I should have burned hotter than the desert.

I squinted playfully. "But I'm not pregnant."

He smirked. "One day you will be. I'll make sure of it."

"I … I would like that," I whispered, and a soft tug moved through my chest. "One day."

He kissed my forehead. "If you feel alone, if you panic, just remember my promise. I will always protect you. I will always find you."

"Yes, my beloved husband ," I said, savoring the glimmering word as it melted on my tongue, coating my heart in gold.

His breath caught, eyes widening before he let out a shy snicker. "If it was up to me, I'd stand here all day and listen to you finally call me husband again. But the sooner we create the stone, the sooner we can start planning our family."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I said, but a part of me was definitely getting ahead of myself, too. How cute would our baby be? Would they have little horns and a tiny tail and?—

Skrain turned and gestured for me to follow. "Come, it's not far now. Walk a few steps behind me. We can't let them see us being affectionate."

I huffed and hurried after him. However long we had to stay in the monastery, any second not touching Skrain would be an eternity. And trials, tongue-cutting, and other dangers aside, that definitely seemed like the most torturous part.

Skrain's fist pounded against the imposing metal gate, and it rang with the impact. I flinched, folding my arms around myself as I studied the dark iron. There was no way of opening it from the outside, no mechanism or handle.

My head tilted back as my eyes followed vines with delicate red blooms and jagged leaves growing over the towering stone wall hewn from the mountain. Desert roses, I recalled. The only flowers that could survive months without water, never losing their color, warding off grazing animals with their broad thorns.

The gate creaked open, just a slit, and a bald, ancient-looking monk with short horns peered outside, wrinkly lips pressed tight, dull blue eyes narrowed. I tried not to stare at the long scars covering the parchment-like skin of his face, tried not to think if he had inflicted them on himself.

Skrain reached into his pocket and produced the letter he'd prepared at home, written in blocky scribbles and signed by both of us. He unfolded it, holding it out to the man.

Our names are Skrain and Kerys. We have seen the treachery of our hearts in betrayal to one another, but Dax'eia has shown us the way, and we wish to cleanse ourselves and serve her . We hope you will accept the translation gem around Kerys's throat. She has come from across the ocean to learn about Dax'eia, but yet needs help to understand Xar'vathi. We implore you: please allow us into the Wordless Creed.

At first, I had been confused by the letter's simplicity and purposely sloppy penmanship, but Skrain insisted that fancy cursive and academic eloquence would make us seem less sincere. After all, we were supposed to drop all vanity and pretense in the monastery.

The male stared at the paper. Then at us, looking us up and down, from head to toe. Then back to the letter. Back to us.

Minutes passed in tense silence.

Whenever he looked at me, the corners of my lips wanted to twitch into a smile, but I stopped myself. Smiling—another thing these devotees saw as an offense.

Though the urge to speak burned in my throat, I clamped my mouth shut. My heart pounded, and I counted every too-quick beat.

Creators, how long could this take?

A barely audible sigh drifted from the man's lips as he opened the gate a little wider. He stepped aside, threadbare gray robes fluttering around his gaunt form. With a sweeping gesture of his bony tail and a somber nod, he invited us inside.

Skrain inclined his head and marched on, full of confidence. I took a moment to steel myself, my feet glued to the dusty rock, before I made myself follow.

The ground quaked as the gate fell shut behind us. We stood in a barren chamber, illuminated by a single, flickering torch on the stone wall. Another gate towered ahead, this one wooden, a smaller door cut into its right side, bearing a rusty lock.

As the monk rounded us, I forced slow breaths into my lungs, but the harder I tried, the quicker I gasped. Skrain stood right beside me, close enough to touch. My fingers tingled with the need to feel his warmth, to let him comfort me. I gritted my teeth, resisting the impulse to?—

The world went dark.

My stomach lurched, a scream dying on my tongue. If I resisted, if I made a noise, we'd be finished, and I wasn't keen to find out why no applicants ever left the monastery.

Calm down , Kerys, I told myself. You haven't gone blind. Think. Focus .

A blindfold. Yes, it must have been the monk's shaky hands tugging a tight knot at the back of my head.

My attention diverted to my other senses. I noted the old man's soft steps. The swishing of Skrain's tail, its tip hitting my foot. The metal scraping of a key in a lock and a click as it yielded.

A screech rang in my ears—probably the gate opening—before something cold and hard wrapped around my wrist. The monk's fingers, I guessed.

He pulled me onward and the door slammed shut, the lock clicking again. As I was yanked forward anew, I stumbled, tripping over my horrible shoes. With each step, I sunk slightly into the squelching ground.

No light filtered through the edges of the blindfold. Perhaps it was enchanted, or perhaps the room was pitch black, but the effect remained the same. I saw nothing—but my stomach curdled as I inhaled.

A sour scent with a repugnant, underlying sweetness. Iron and acid.

Blood.

Death .

Decay .

And beneath, almost hidden, another fragrance.

Sulfur .

Something inside me, the prey part of my psyche, flew into a panic.

The Wordless Creed was involved with demonology. There was no doubt.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

With effort, I focused my thoughts on Skrain. His face, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way his tail whipped when he was excited. How warm his voice sounded when he told me he loved me.

A noise came from my left. Faint and muted. I tilted my head, listening closer.

Closer.

The grip around my wrist held tighter, not hurting, but I understood.

Keep walking .

There it was again. That sound.

My brows quirked.

A skittering. A wet rip. A crack and a snap.

A dark rumble reverberated through the air, and my heart skipped a dangerously long beat.

Feasting .

Something was feasting, tearing flesh and tendon. Breaking bones.

And we were walking right through its lair.