Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

CLIO

Lying on her bed at the inn, Clio stared blankly at the ceiling. She rolled the small pink gemstone between her finger and thumb, feeling each imperfection on its surface.

In terms of weaving skill, the smaller the receptacle of a weaving, the more difficult the spell was to create. After perfecting a spell's design in a disk, Lyre would eventually compact the weaving into a smaller form to fit in a gemstone or steel marble. The weaver didn't weave it that small, of course. They wove a layer at a reasonable size, condensed it into the lodestone, wove the next layer, condensed it, and so on.

The gem held layer upon layer of fine weaving. When she examined it with her asper, she didn't see the literal tiny threads, but a version in her mind she could parse piece by piece. Illusions were difficult, though. She couldn't tell what the illusion would look like, only that it was an illusion.

This one was constructed so it could be activated and deactivated, and the threads recharged with magic by the creator as the stores inside the stone grew low. She could have activated it when she first brought it back to the inn, but she hadn't—despite having more than enough time. Countless hours of darkness had passed, then most of the bright Underworld day. Outside the window, the sun was drawing closer to the edge of the planet in the sky, and in another hour, it would slip out of sight—the beginning of the eclipse.

Her first cycle in the night realm was almost complete. Seventy-two hours. It felt like weeks had passed, not three days.

She turned the stone over again. The last half-cycle had crawled by in utter monotony. She, Kassia, and Eryx had been stuck at the inn while Madrigal worked on her commission. He wouldn't have a functional weaving to show her for at least another cycle. After so long in their suite, Clio was almost looking forward to the event at the Hades palace.

Rocking her head to one side, she scowled at her flowing nymph costume, carefully cleaned and spread across the bed covers, waiting for her to put it on. Seeing as she hadn't thought to bring a formal evening gown on her spell-stealing hell trip, it would be her outfit for the event.

She held the gemstone up to the light and watched it sparkle. Curiosity burned, but she didn't activate the spell to see what the illusion was. Beneath her curiosity, a leaden weight sat deep in her gut.

Closing her fingers over the stone, she rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow. She should have been more careful while peeking at Lyre's private spell stashes—or not invaded his privacy at all. Aside from Kassia and Eryx, he was the closest thing she'd had to an ally here. The tentative trust between them, the growing camaraderie… why had she ruined it?

Pushing herself up, she rubbed her face. It didn't matter. She would never see him again anyway. She would go home to Irida, and he would figure out his own problems. Their worlds did not overlap—figuratively or literally. She needed to focus on what was important.

Tossing the gemstone onto the pillow, she stripped out of her clothes and donned her costume. She was fixing her braid into a bun at the back of her head when she heard the main door to the suite open and close.

"Finally," Kassia said, her impatient voice carrying through the closed bedroom door. "Where did you go?"

"Scoping the nearby area," Eryx answered nonchalantly. "In case of an emergency. It's good to know your way around."

Kassia made a rough sound of acknowledgment before adding darkly, "If things go so wrong that we're fleeing through the streets, we'll be screwed no matter what."

"Your optimism is heartening, Kass," Eryx said with cheerful sarcasm.

Kassia chuffed. "Are you ready for this event? I'm already worried about Clio. A single Overworlder in that viper's nest? No way she'll go unnoticed."

"We'll be beside her the whole time." Compared to Kassia, Eryx sounded utterly carefree. "We can look threatening when we want to, you know."

Clio tied the last long, billowy sleeve into place and pushed the door open. Kassia and Eryx stood facing each other, their postures rigid.

Eryx turned to Clio. "Are you ready? There's a carriage waiting for you at the front doors."

"There is?" Clio yelped. "Why didn't you say so?"

"It's better to be fashionably late than early, isn't it?"

Grumbling, she took a step toward them, then hesitated. "Just a second."

Returning to the bedroom, she scooped Lyre's gemstone off her pillow and tucked it into the hidden pocket in the wide belt of fabric around her waist.

"Okay," she said, rushing back into the main room. "I'm ready."

Kassia and Eryx wore their red leather ensembles, and with their expressions equally grim, Clio had to agree with Eryx: they did look threatening. As the three of them headed down to the waiting carriage, Clio was more grateful than ever to have Kassia and Eryx with her.

Sneaking around Chrysalis had been dangerous enough, and her visit to the Hades residence might reach a whole new level of peril.

Clio had expected a room full of politicians. She hadn't expected a room full of literal monsters.

Standing beside a long table, she tried not to fidget. Kassia and Eryx hovered on either side of her, glaring at anyone who glanced her way. With her white, blue, and green outfit, Clio was impossible to miss in the dimly lit room full of muted colors—and she was more than ready for the Underworlders to stop approaching her.

A rail-thin man with eerie champagne-pink eyes, who'd introduced himself as the Warlord of Torngasuk—a territory she'd never heard of before—hadn't been that bad. He was now speaking to a pair of women with leathery faces, tangled manes of gray hair, and huge feathered wings folded against their backs. Clio had already talked to them—matrons of a caste called harpies.

They were almost normal compared to a towering, black-furred beast that resembled a werewolf or the trio of creatures with sexless human torsos that changed to snake bodies below the waist. There was a daemon with skin that looked like stone, and another male with bug eyes and a scorpion tail, complete with the stabby, venomous part on the end. Oh, and how could she forget the twelve-foot-tall minotaur with curving horns and hooves the size of dinner plates?

To be fair, over half the guests were in glamour and appeared no more threatening than an odd bunch of humans. Many had introduced themselves with perfect manners and politely fished for insight about her intentions. They wanted to get on the "political allies" bandwagon with Hades, a theory supported by several not-so-polite comments about the Ra family. The enemy of their enemy was their friend.

Staying in glamour wasn't about good manners, though. Like everything daemons did, it was a power play. The monstrous guests might look more frightening, but the truly powerful daemons were in glamour. Not only did they appear more reserved and sophisticated, but deliberately weakening themselves with glamour was a clear statement that they weren't afraid of anyone at the event.

The most powerful daemon of all, and their host of the event, had yet to appear. According to other attendees, Samael had been delayed. Clio couldn't decide whether she was anticipating his appearance—she wanted to see the face that went with the fearsome reputation—or dreading it.

"Well," Eryx muttered, "this is boring."

"Shush," Kassia hissed under her breath. "Be glad it's boring."

"I haven't heard a single interesting bit of gossip." He glanced across Clio and Kassia. "I'm going to wander around."

"Eryx—"

He grinned and slipped away, leaving Clio and Kassia standing alone.

"That idiot." Sighing, Kassia glanced at Clio. "What do you think?"

"It's not what I expected," Clio admitted, peering around the hall.

Tall windows lined one side of the spacious room, offering an expansive view of Asphodel's lights in the darkness. Heavy black drapes framed the windows, presumably ready to be pulled across the glass at the first sign of sunlight. Tapestries covered the walls, and beautiful food in artistic arrangements filled the long tables. A musician in the corner played a somber ballade on an unfamiliar string instrument.

While the guests mingled in the center of the grand space, daemons of a different sort lurked around the perimeter. Like Clio, many had arrived with bodyguards, but unlike her, they'd mostly left their protectors to wait and watch from the shadows.

One pair kept drawing Clio's eye. The two daemons were dressed in black, their sleeveless shirts baring well-muscled arms adorned with dark bracers. At a glance, they didn't seem much different from the other watching guards, but those two… they oozed danger.

Kassia followed her gaze, then nudged Clio with her elbow. "Don't stare."

Clio quickly focused on the table. "I wonder who they are?"

"I couldn't tell you who anyone else here is, but I have a good idea about one of those guys."

"Really? How?"

"The older one with the scar on his face? Every chimera who's trained as a royal guard has been warned about him. His name is Raum, and he's a Hades assassin."

"An assassin?" Clio whispered disbelievingly. "Right here at the party?"

"He's one of Samael's favorite mercenaries—not that the Hades family has ever admitted to employing assassins. Maybe Raum is here to give the impression that he's just another political ally."

Biting her lip nervously, Clio surreptitiously peered at the taller of the two daemons. "He doesn't look like a reaper."

"He isn't. He's a draconian."

Clio rifled through her admittedly spotty knowledge of Underworld castes. "Draconians are quite powerful, aren't they?"

Kassia's lips thinned. "They're supposedly the most powerful Underworld caste—even stronger than reapers—but there aren't that many of them. They don't even have their own territory, as far as I know."

Clio stole another glance at Raum. He had wavy, wine-red hair, and the distinct scar on his left cheek was visible even at a distance. His expression was ice cold, more like a statue than a living person. His companion, a younger version of him without the scar, had darker hair with one side braided and a red tie hanging over his shoulder. He was expressionless too.

"How did Raum become so well-known outside the Underworld?" Clio asked in a hushed voice.

Kassia flexed her shoulders. "Raum has killed six Ra family members in the last four years—that we've heard about. Probably more. The list of assassinations and attacks he's tied to is five pages long."

Feeling chilled, Clio decided she didn't want to sneak any more peeks at the assassin.

"The younger one is probably his protégé," Kassia added. "I've seen a few reports that mention Raum having a younger cohort, but there isn't much information about him."

Clio pretended to contemplate the delicacies on the table as she muttered, "What kind of daemon invites assassins to a party?"

"The Hades warlord kind."

Clio huffed. "Have I mentioned I hate this place?"

"Asphodel?"

"The Underworld."

Clio slipped her fingers into the hidden pocket of her belt and pulled out Lyre's small pink gemstone. So much ugliness hid in the Underworld's shadows. How much did Lyre hide behind his easygoing charm? What secrets kept him chained to Chrysalis?

"Incoming," Kassia whispered.

A daemon flanked by six flunkies bore down on Clio with an oily grin. His huge bulk strained the buttons of his shirt. Daemons were naturally athletic and seeing one so obese was a shock. It took extreme overindulgence for a daemon to gain that much extra weight.

"You must be the Iridian envoy," the daemon said in an unpleasantly raspy voice. His eyes were a murky shade of plum that matched the dark circles under them. "Clio, isn't it?"

"Yes." Clutching the gemstone, she tried not to obviously recoil from him.

"I am Suhul, Warlord of the Daeva. Are you familiar with our caste?"

"I'm afraid not," she mumbled.

She shifted a few inches closer to Kassia. They were trapped between Suhul's entourage and the table behind her with no easy way to escape.

"Not to worry, my dear," Suhul said eagerly. "The Underworld is home to over a hundred eminent castes, and many hundreds more lesser known castes."

"Hundreds," she repeated weakly.

"Most castes never cross worlds, so I wouldn't imagine their names are ever spoken outside the Underworld." His greasy smile returned. "Your experience tonight is unique for an Overworlder. Almost fifty castes are represented here tonight, did you know?"

"Wow, fifty."

"Indeed." He leaned closer and a sour smell wafted over Clio. "It's a highly varied gathering, from esteemed reapers and daevas like myself, to the mercenary harpies and draconians."

On the last word, his gaze swung to the two draconian assassins, and he licked his lips before focusing on Clio again. "Have you been introduced to everyone yet, Clio, my dear? I would be happy to act as your guide and informant."

Clio glanced pleadingly at Kassia, but her friend just stared stonily at Suhul, no more able to get Clio out of the conversation than she could herself.

"Who would you like to meet? I saw the harpies talking to you earlier—you can certainly do for better company than them." Suhul swiveled his round frame. "How about—oh, but you would have met them, since you're here for business with Chrysalis."

"Who?" she asked.

Shifting back a step, he gestured toward two men with pale blond hair speaking to a tall woman. Clio's breath caught. Lyre. But no, it was another doppelganger—another brother, this one with shorter, neater hair than Lyre's and an expression like he'd never smiled in his life.

Then the second blond man turned, and Clio gasped. He was an incubus too, but not a doppelganger. He looked distinctly older, his hair paler and tied in a short tail at the nape of his neck.

"Ah," Suhul said, watching her. "So you haven't met them yet."

"Who …?"

"Lyceus Rysalis and his eldest son, Andante."

"Lyceus Rysalis," she murmured, watching Lyre's father. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties, but he had to be older than that to have sired adult children. Did incubi age more slowly than most daemons or did Lyceus have exceptionally good genes?

"Rysalis," she repeated again, a frown pulling at her lips. "Chrysalis… Rysalis."

"Exactly, yes." Suhul tugged his shirt down his bulging belly. "Most incubi are worse than useless, but the Rysalis family is quite a different case. The bloodline has produced some of the most infamous weavers in Underworld history. The family is very wealthy, though that wealth is tied to Hades now."

"They didn't always work for Hades?" Clio asked cautiously.

"Oh no." Suhul rocked back on his heels, delighted to show off his knowledge. "With their wealth and unique abilities, the Rysalis family used to rival the main families for political power. Then—oh, about six centuries ago? Seven?—the Hades warlord struck a deal with them, and the whole Rysalis clan moved here and set up shop as Chrysalis."

"Why would they do that?" she asked. "Why give up their independence?"

"Back then, they didn't specialize in militaristic spellcraft the way they do now. One small family, even with the best weavers in the three realms, was vulnerable, and their wealth could only buy them so much protection. Hades provided a safe place to work and do business and all the helpers they could need."

"And in return, they make whatever magic Hades wants?"

"Precisely. Over the centuries, Chrysalis became more of an arm of Hades than its own entity, but it's still powerful." Suhul leaned toward her with another leer. "I can see you're a clever one, my dear. I would be happy to educate you further on Underworld history and politics."

"A—a generous offer," she stammered, cringing back and bumping the table. The gemstone slipped from her hand, hit the floor, and rolled out of sight. "Who is the woman Lyceus is talking to?"

Suhul glanced over at the female daemon speaking with the two incubi. Her raven-black hair was pulled into a severe ponytail, and her curvaceous figure was clad in a mix of black fabric and even blacker leather that didn't seem appropriate for… well, for any occasion.

"That is Eisheth Hades, a cousin of Samael's," Suhul answered. "She's also the bastille's warden, and that position commands a certain… deference."

"The bastille?"

"The, ah, prison here in Asphodel. It has a reputation…" Giving his head a shake, Suhul stepped closer, his swollen stomach almost touching her. "As I was saying, perhaps you might like to visit my territory before you leave the Underworld. Asphodel is rather lacking in luxuries, you know. You would enjoy a visit with my people, I am positive."

Don't blast a warlord. Don't blast a warlord. Clio chanted the words in her head as she again looked at Kassia for help. Her bodyguard straightened and raised her voice.

"Warlord, sir, is that daemon hailing you?"

"Huh? Who?" Suhul stepped back from Clio and turned, searching for the nonexistent daemon. His mindless entourage turned to look as well.

Kassia tilted her head, urging Clio to step behind her. But that wouldn't stop Suhul. Out of sheer desperation, Clio went for the first escape that popped into her head—she dropped into a crouch and ducked under the table. The floor-length tablecloth had barely fallen back into place when Suhul's feet pivoted.

"Eh? Where did she go?"

"The Iridian envoy had to step out for a moment," Kassia answered stiffly.

"But where…" His feet turned. " Hmph. Is this some kind of Overworld magic? Vanishing on the spot?"

Crouched uncomfortably, Clio pulled a face, grateful it hadn't occurred to Suhul that she was under the table—probably because he wouldn't fit. It would have been beyond embarrassing for him or his entourage to catch her hiding like a child. Maybe this was a bad idea, but one more lascivious grin from that creep and she would have tossed her dinner on his feet.

Ignoring the conversation above, she searched around until a sparkle caught her eye. Retrieving Lyre's gem, she stuffed it back into her hidden pocket and hunched her shoulders. How would she get out again without anyone noticing her? Maybe she would just stay here until the event was over.

With an annoyed grumble, Suhul stalked away, his heavy footsteps vibrating the polished wood floor. Clio huffed out a breath—and heard another small puff of air.

She twisted around. Barely audible over the competing conversations was another huffy sound and a faint scuffling. Brow furrowed, Clio crept along the floor and peered between the legs where one table butted up against another—and realized she wasn't alone in her hiding spot.