23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

C aelus's hardened expression cracked at my utterly ridiculous request, but it was he who originally suggested that a ball with everyone fancifully dressed was bound to have couples sneaking off to find somewhere private in the castle. It was as good of a cover as any.

He glanced toward where the clanking sounded and then strode toward me. I stepped back, a narrow table lining the hallway pressing against the backs of my thighs through the soft material of my dress.

Caelus cupped my cheek and kissed me with a fervent, urgent need, as though his very life depended on it. I kissed him back, knowing deep down I'd wanted to for longer than I'd admit. His lips moved against mine, and I knew I'd never have enough. Heat tightened low in my stomach. All sense of reality warped away.

His hand moved from my cheek to my nape while the other traveled down my side, sliding lower. My hands drifted over his chest until my arms made their way around his neck. Caelus groaned. I pulled back, breathless. He took that moment to draw my bottom lip into his mouth. A whimper escaped me, and, with a tilt of his head, he deepened the kiss with a sweep of his tongue.

I should have stopped him. It would have been the smart thing to do. The kiss was only meant to be a distraction, but I found myself lost in it. My body craved his touch—wanted him.

As if sensing my body's desire, he stepped forward, his fingers drifting down my back. His body pressed me harder against that narrow table behind me, the edge digging into the backs of my legs. His calloused fingertips slipped through the slits of my dress, featherlight and leaving decadent tingles in their wake. Warm hands caressed the back of my thighs, and he lifted me up onto the narrow table behind me. I gasped, and I swore he smirked against my lips.

My legs spread wide, and he situated himself between them, the hard length of him against my hot center. His grip on my thighs tightened, and my body flushed and ached for more—for him.

One of his hands released my leg and his fingertips traveled up my exposed spine. My body shivered at his touch, my back arching. My hands threaded through the soft strands of his hair, relishing each touch. He teased my lips. His hands wandered my body, avoiding my aching breasts. I moaned against his lips as he kept kissing me as though he never wanted to stop.

And I wasn't sure I wanted him to either.

"You two shouldn't be—" started a male voice, but he cut himself off, grumbling about drunken guests.

Caelus broke the kiss but didn't back away. His eyes remained locked on mine and burned, like thunder clouds ready to burst. Despite the guard's presence, Caelus appeared as though he'd rather still be kissing me. And I wanted him to, despite being undeserving of it.

He didn't bother looking at the guard. Voice thick, he said, "We got lost. We'll be on our way."

The guard mumbled and his footsteps retreated, but we stayed as we were for a moment longer, neither of us acknowledging the intensity of the kiss yet neither of us seeming quite ready to move.

Caelus inhaled deeply and took a step back, that look of indifference slowly slipping back into place. My hands slid free of his soft hair, leaving it disheveled.

My foggy mind dragged itself back to reality, and I pushed myself off the narrow table. My shoes touched down on the iron flooring, not making a sound this time.

I'd only kissed a few people, but none of them had left me wanting more. Romantic relationships weren't something I pursued, mostly because the risk didn't outweigh any benefits. At least, not before, when my life had been almost nothing aside from the stone halls of Ahrea's temple and Klareth's demands.

Caelus ran a hand through his hair, only making it more disheveled. My face flushed, and I glanced away. Even if my plan had saved us for the moment, the guard would still be around the corner. We needed some way to go unnoticed.

Caelus approached the corner of the hall where the guard had come from. I followed, keeping a short distance between us.

Voice still thick and quiet, he said, "Travok's chamber."

The doors creaked open, followed by the sound of a man and woman arguing in hushed tones.

As they grew closer, the man said, "Don't worry about Tooley. The labryn's skilled at mimicry."

The woman pleaded, "Don't work with a monster from the Abyss."

"Trust and all will be well, my dear."

The woman's voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it.

Their footsteps grew closer, and Caelus took my arm. The hall whirled away, and we were in front of the door at the end of the hall. He slipped inside, and I trailed behind him. The room was small and circular, containing a few shelves lined with books, a single armchair, and a spiral stone staircase leading down. He shut the door behind us without a sound, and I turned to face him.

"I thought doing that drained your esprit," I said.

Caelus peered down the stairway, his fingers wrapping around the protective railing. "It does."

"Ah, so kissing me was all about conserving esprit." He'd already been using it to mask me, and he'd said transporting another with him was draining.

His grip tightened. "Plans change."

I frowned. My fingers drifted to my lips. Had I misread the desire in that kiss? Maybe Caelus was just an excellent kisser.

I sighed and peered down the shadowy stairway beside him, but it was too dark to see past where we stood. "Should we go down?"

He continued peering down. Finally, he took a step. "There are still people outside."

I followed behind him and created a small ball of light. The little arcs of lightning struck the invisible barrier that trapped them, seeking a way out. Worn stone lined the stairwell. Wherever it led was older than the iron castle.

My mind drifted to the voices we'd heard.

Lord Tooley Whistlemane was another of the Dawn Conclave serving the king. The man said the Abyssal was good at mimicry. Was it copying Lord Whistlemane in some way? The king needed to know. Hopefully, the king had enough sense to get rid of an Abyssal posing as a member of his court.

Abyssals were monsters that ventured into the realm of Marunia from the Abyss. They varied in skill and strength. One that could shift and mimic a person would be powerful. Did Ebonhammer know? Maybe he'd been behind it, given his current eating habits. The Abyssal may have even been responsible for manipulating Lord Ebonhammer into eating flesh.

We traveled downward and away from our ultimate goal, and my worry for Teeg grew. But the closer we got to the bottom, that pull I'd felt all those nights ago in Ahrea's temple—the same pull as though a rope was tied to my waist—drew me downward.

At the bottom, we stepped into a dimly lit cavern. The orange glow of torches illuminated a desk covered in scraps of paper. Vials lined the back containing a luminescent green liquid.

In the center of the space was an altar with a jade-colored stone in the center. It was about the size of a large jewel, smaller than the one I'd seen in the Temple of Ahrea. "This is like the catacombs," I said.

Caelus took the stone into his hand and examined it. His face paled, and he dropped it. "It feels like . . . like death."

I crouched next to it and looked at it closely. The interior of the green stone swirled and shone like the liquid in the vials. "Could Klareth and Ebonhammer have been working together? She would have easy access to . . ." I trailed off, unable to finish.

Caelus stepped toward the desk, looking through the papers atop it. "It's likely."

"We should take it," I said.

Caelus rifled through the drawers and came back with a small leather pouch. I scooped it inside and handed it to him for safekeeping.

"You'll tell the king, right? About Whistlemane and Ebonhammer?" I asked.

"Do you think I wouldn't?"

I shot him a glare.

He glanced above us. "It's safe now."

"How do you know?"

He started up the stairs. "My esprit allows me to hear better than the average person."

For him to hear that far above us was more than simply "hearing better than the average person." If his esprit could do that, what else could he do?

Caelus led the way back up, keeping our movements silent. It would be a matter of time before he ran out of esprit to mask us, though. We needed to get to Lord Ebonhammer and then make our exit before anyone took notice.

We emerged at the top of the stairs, and Caelus pulled out a dagger from underneath his coat. He motioned for me to stay back. Weaponless, I obeyed.

He crept toward the door leading out of the room. In one swift, controlled motion, he shoved the door open without making a sound. He spun to the side, thrusting the blade up.

I peeked out, and his blade was pressed to a man's throat. He hadn't killed him. Not yet, at least.

Despite the sneer on the man's scarred face, he held his arms up in surrender. "Smart to come out first," he said.

But I knew that face—that scar and crooked nose weren't features I'd soon forget. Or the feel of his arms wrapped around me, pressing my arms to my body, leaving me with no way to defend myself besides my gift. "You tried to kidnap me."

Caelus gritted his teeth. "You should be dead."

"Seems the goddess of mercy spared me."

Caelus jerked the part-dwarven, part-fey man by the collar, and he guided him into the small circular room, keeping the blade at his throat. The door closed behind us on a phantom wind. Caelus shoved him against the stone wall.

The man's gaze shifted to me, and his smile caused that scar to appear jagged. "Seems you ended up here all the same."

Caelus pressed the dagger's tip farther, breaking the skin. A thin trickle of blood slid down his neck. He didn't show any reaction.

I narrowed my eyes. The man in front of me appeared familiar still. Not just because he'd tried to take me. "Who are you? And what does that mean?" I asked.

He chuckled, not seeming to care that it caused the tip of the blade to dig deeper and free another droplet of blood. "I'm sure you're familiar with my father. Travok Ebonhammer."

I took in the man claiming to be Iker Ebonhammer, son of Lord Ebonhammer. Iker bore a slight resemblance to his father in the painting above the ballroom. His unruly black hair and the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes. Whoever his mother was, however, must have been fey due to his height and slight point to his ears.

"Perrin told me who you are. Said you might be useful to me," Iker continued.

My muscles tensed. Had Perrin told him about me being the Tempest or heir to House Quinn?

"Useful for what?" Caelus asked.

"My father. He's obsessed with longevity."

So Perrin hadn't lied.

"He's planning to head House Ebonhammer indefinitely."

My stomach turned. "How?"

"He discovered some ritual to sustain his youth by obtaining people's esprit. He's consuming their flesh." His nose wrinkled. "Even going so far as to use any left over to feed the castle. It started with adults just past childhood. When that became less effective, he moved on to those who were younger."

Bile burned the back of my throat. "The food at the ball."

His features turned grim.

I twisted, saliva building in my mouth. My skin grew clammy, and I leaned my head over the railing of the stairwell. The contents of my stomach came up, burning my throat. It'd only been one little sandwich, but to eat someone—a child.

A hand rubbed my back and another pulled my hair away, saving it from the vomit as I retched again. It was a miracle no one heard. I supposed I had Caelus to thank for that. His esprit likely kept us concealed in the room for the time being.

A thin coat of sweat covered my forehead, but I stayed as I was. A handkerchief appeared in my periphery, and I grabbed it from Caelus's hand, wiping my forehead and then my mouth, the acrid taste lingering.

I faced Iker where he now leaned against the wall. He didn't seem surprised by my reaction—maybe he even assumed I'd eaten some of the food unknowingly. And, in a way, he'd done me a favor by telling me. Otherwise, the flesh of someone would have remained in my stomach to digest more than it had.

But now was my chance to ask questions. Yet all I could think of was his father. Iker had let this continue. "Did you try to stop him?" I asked.

He averted his gaze, not saying anything. It was enough of an answer that I didn't stop the arcing tempest from slipping free and slithering across my arms.

Shock passed over his face, and his eyes met mine again.

The last time we'd met, I'd held it back, afraid of my power, but as long as I didn't touch either of them, they would be fine. A part of me considered killing him, though, for allowing his father to continue consuming flesh—children—but I didn't want needless death. "What did he do with Teeg?"

Iker lifted a brow. "Be more specific."

"A boy. A little boy with brown curls, round cheeks." I held a hand, palm down, near my hips. "This tall." It took everything in me not to yell.

Caelus didn't say anything beside me, his focus pinned on Iker.

Iker narrowed his eyes. "Children meet one fate in this iron cage."

"Even the Golden Child? Klareth sent him here. I doubt it was to be eaten." Even as I said it, a fresh wave of bitterness filled my mouth.

"That high priestess and Father worked together. But I know nothing of a Golden Child."

My mind raced with everything I'd learned. Klareth . . . She'd sent them here for Ebonhammer to consume. All so that he could use their flesh—their esprit—to continue living. What was I supposed to do? As a Quinn or the Tempest? Kill Travok? "Why haven't you killed him?"

"He was once a man I looked up to. A father one could be proud of."

And killing him would hurt despite the man his father had become. It would be hard to forget—harder not to hope he may change and become a decent man again. But it was too late for that. There was nothing Travok Ebonhammer could do that would redeem him. I prayed Thanally, goddess of death and spirits, was not kind to him in the afterlife.

"Take us to him. You can get us past the guards at his door," Caelus said.

Iker pushed himself off the wall and stepped into the hall, not saying anything.

We followed him. The lightning faded with each step; with each deep breath in and out, I regained a sense of calm. A sense of control.

Killing Travok should be easy—he was a child-murdering cannibal. But could I do it? Caelus had said that killing someone who ruined the lives of others was better, and maybe it was true. Because if he lived, he would continue.

But I still needed answers.

We rounded the corner to find two guards collapsed in front of Travok's doors, a crossbow bolt in the neck of each, blood pooling along the iron floor. Someone else had beaten us to him. I rushed into the room. He can't be dead. Not yet.

A lush rug lined the floor of Lord Ebonhammer's chambers. Fine velvet couches and a cabinet of bejeweled decanters made up the sitting room. A stark difference to the bareness of the rest of the castle.

Another set of double doors led from the sitting room to the bedroom. A large canopy bed sat in the center. Lord Ebonhammer lay in it, and standing next to him was Stumbleduck. He'd wanted into the ball because of his history with Travok. We could have worked together if we'd known about his plans, but he held something in his hand. Something I recognized.

A small metallic toy man.