Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER

TWENTY

_________

T HE WAVES DROWN OUT THE SOUND OF OUR HOOKS SINKING into the stone. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as we ascend, and my muscles rival the burning in my chest. I try to breathe through it, but it keeps persisting. Cayden continues glancing my way, but I do my best to keep my expression focused and neutral.

"I'm going to get to the top and pull you the rest of the way," he says.

"Don't rush. The rocks are slippery from the dampness in the air." I pause to watch his conflicted expression. He's probably going back and forth in his head about staying beside me or rushing ahead to be my anchor. But eventually he relents, respecting my request.

My skills have never included brute strength. That combined with the sudden resurgence of my dragon bond pulsing in my chest makes this a difficult climb. But I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.

The jagged cliffside creates crevices for me to step, and I don't dare risk looking down. We're high enough now that a fall could either kill or paralyze us, leaving us to the mercy of the surf. It doesn't truly feel like I'm in Imirath considering I've never been here, but perhaps that's a small mercy to my anxiety.

"I'm going to make sure the cave is clear while you finish," Cayden says when he makes it to the top and swings himself onto a ledge, disappearing from view. I dig deep into myself to complete the climb as the wind rips the hair from my braid and obscures my vision. I sink the pick into the stone again and continue hefting myself up.

I think of my dragons.

I think of Finnian waiting for me in Vareveth.

I think of the life I could have if Cayden and I succeed tonight.

I don't want to be who I am. I want to be more. And I want to fight for myself.

I dig my pick into the stone ledge, but my wrist scrapes on a sharp edge and the bond flares so prominently in my chest that I cry out and my grip fails. Cayden slides to the edge before I fall and grips my bloodied wrist.

"I've got you," he grits out before tugging me up. I help him as much as I can by wedging my boots along the mountainside and pushing myself toward him. When he gets me high enough, he grips me around the waist and falls back with me on his chest. He abruptly flips us over while I'm still catching my breath, untying the rope around my waist to secure it on his belt. "Your death would be highly inconvenient for me, so if you could try a bit harder to not die it would be greatly appreciated."

He's off me in the next second, unsheathing his sword and offering me a hand up. I could be mature and pretend like I don't see it, but I smack it away after attaching the picks to my waist and climb to my feet instead, sharpening my knives against each other as I glare at him. The way he regards my features seems like he enjoys this.

"Where are the guards?" I whisper when we enter a suspiciously empty cave.

"They remain in the lower caves, but even if a prisoner were to escape, the current, rocks, or monsters would kill them before they got to shore. However, they patrol the halls throughout. Is the bond still acting up?" We halt before turning a corner, and he pricks the tip of his finger with a knife, letting a few drops fall to the stone floor.

The pressure in my chest has faded to a dull throb now that my blood isn't seeping into the stone, but I'll manage. "The magic here is having a strong effect on it. What exactly are you doing?"

"This is apparently where the God of Water kept his prisoners before the gods left us. The water in my blood will guide us to where we need to go. Not everyone knows the trick, and some people have died in the labyrinth while trying to find a way out."

At first, it doesn't look like much is happening, but the blood slides together after a few moments, creating a dark red dot. I try to remember what I know of the God of Water, but my memory is hazy, like I'm looking up at the sky from the bottom of a murky lake.

He presses a hand into my back and the droplet leads us down a torch-lined, winding path that splits off into two. I notice that there aren't any stairs, just a network of turns leading higher or lower throughout the prison. It all looks the same and would definitely be easy to get lost in. It's almost like it was designed to drive escaping prisoners mad.

Voices bounce off the walls when we step into an opening that juts off into three others. I move forward to swipe the blood droplet away to erase the evidence of our presence when I'm roughly grabbed from behind. I pivot and press my knife to my assailant's neck, halting the blade just before I pierce his flesh.

"You don't need to surprise me with knives, angel. I'll bleed for you if you ask nicely."

Drawing knives is a force of habit. He spins me again and presses my front into the stone, bracing his arms on either side of my head and getting maddeningly close. "I don't ask nicely when I dream of stabbing you."

"Do you wish to indulge me in what else you fantasize about me?"

I nudge my elbow into his stomach. "What in the hells are you doing?"

"Darkness is drawn to my cloak; it'll keep us hidden. We can't be found before we get to the key." He drops his voice to a whisper as the voices grow louder.

"But I thought—"

"Yes, magic is outlawed in Vareveth. Eagor's laws are adorable. I'm sure he recites them to Valia every night as a bedtime story. Now, stop fucking wiggling."

"You shoved me into a wall of stone. I'm uncomfortable."

"I don't care," he hisses, grabbing my hips to still them. But that's when I feel it . . . his hard length digging into me. The voices grow louder, as does the blood rushing through my ears. I try not to show a reaction, but I can tell he notes the way my breathing has changed when his shoulders stiffen after I shakily inhale.

His hands grip me harder.

My heart beats faster.

Maybe it's for the best we're in a place where we can't act on this, but teasing him is far too addictive, so I push my hips back onto his. He mutters a curse under his breath.

"Elowen," he warns.

"Perhaps I'm not the one doing the fantasizing, soldier," I murmur as the voices decrease in volume and blessedly turn down a different path.

He takes a small step back, enough to look down at me with dilated pupils. His voice is rough when he speaks. "I've never been called a fool, and denying your beauty would make me one."

I shake off the lingering feelings and we continue our hunt. The key must be kept in a separate section from the prisoners, and knowledge of its existence is most likely reserved for the higher-ranking guards. When I believe we can't go any higher, the cave narrows to a single pathway ending at a heavy metal door. A guard sits on the ground nearby, faintly snoring.

"I'll pick the lock. You take care of the guard," Cayden whispers, placing a velvet pouch in my hand. "Time to utilize your skills, little shadow."

I open it and dump a light blue shimmering powder into my palm. "You filthy criminal. You've been keeping a magical sedative secret from me this whole time. I wonder what your king would say."

"It'll be our secret."

"I'm going to keep some in case you vex me on the journey back. Your presence is tolerable when you keep your mouth shut."

Cayden glares, and I blow him a kiss while moving around him and keeping my steps as light as a feather as I approach the guard. He smacks his lips and grumbles when I lean down and blow the powder. It puffs around him like a cloud until it fades into the darkness as the spell takes hold.

"How long do we have?" I ask while Cayden removes two silver picks from his pocket and inserts them into the keyhole, unlocking the door in a matter of seconds.

"That'll last an hour and we'll be long gone before he wakes." He turns, taking in my wide eyes while holding the door to the chamber open for me. "Thievery is a skill mastered at the expense of morality."

I slide past him and enter. "And I suppose you're the master?"

"I'm the king."

A single stone pillar bathed in moonlight streaming through several barred windows resides at the center of the room. It pulses in time with my heart, and I feel it vibrating through my boots as we walk closer. But no key rests upon the surface; only an imprint chiseled into the stone remains. Cayden and I exchange a look, knowing this is more complex than an empty slab. We're at the top of a mountain riddled with blood magic.

I prick my finger, watching a bead form before letting it fall into the hollow imprint.

"Atarah blood of old and new, feed the mold for they wait for you."

I gasp. "Did you hear that?"

His brows furrow. "No, what are you talking about?"

I shake my head, taking his hand in mine to prick his finger as well. But when his blood falls . . . it seeps through the stone like it was never there, and yet mine remains. He shows no sign of the riddle being triggered by his blood.

"Fucking gods," he mutters, catching on to what this means. "Cut me again. Maybe it'll work on the second try."

"We must use Atarah blood to form the key, Cayden. They're my dragons, only my blood will free them." I turn away from the stone to meet his uneasy eyes. "The stone spoke into my mind."

"That's reassuring." I set the knives down to tug my sleeve up to my elbow, but Cayden grips my wrist. "Blood magic is tricky, Elowen."

"I know blood is sticky."

"Not the time."

"What other choice do we have?" I ask. He grits his teeth, and the frustration on his face for knowing there's no other option is evident. "Don't try to talk me out of this. You'll be wasting time, and considering we don't know the guard schedule, I suggest you let me bleed quickly."

I don't hesitate to grab my knife and stare at the stars glistening above the ocean, the same stars I used to count from the Imirath dungeon, the same stars I gazed upon in Aestilian while swearing I'd find a way back to my dragons, and slice my arm.