8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

S mall hands shook me awake, and I peeled open my heavy eyelids and blinked several times before the haze cleared. My temples throbbed, and I caressed my aching head, pushing up off the grimy stone floor with the other hand. The shackles were no longer cuffed around my wrists, and beside me was Teeg. Had he managed to remove them somehow, or did Caelus?

"You shouldn't be here," I said, voice hoarse.

Teeg sniffled. "Tryssa's missing. I've looked everywhere for her."

I did my best to give him a reassuring smile. "Go to Marus, tell him she's missing, and stay with him. I'll look for her."

He wrapped his arms around my neck, nearly pulling me over, and squeezed.

I hugged him back and ruffled his hair. "Hurry, before someone sees you."

He smiled up at me and nodded. He darted off, leaving me alone.

Next to that worn dresser, the door had been left open. An everflame torch shone past it. That tugging sensation washed through me, urging me to go inside, the same as it had when I'd seen the door to the Chamber of Gods open nights ago.

Keeping quiet, I peeked inside. Steps led deep beneath the temple. I made my way down, torches lighting the way, and stepped in a sticky jade-colored puddle with a bare foot. It reminded me of blood, but thicker.

Small beaded green drops were every few steps along the dusty floor. The dark stone walls became rough the farther down I went. At the bottom, limestone had been carved into recesses along the walls and the floor, and there was a sarcophagus in each.

Was this an alternate route into the catacombs? But why?

I continued past the carved recesses. Each held a former servant of the temple. Some were ancient and offered no dates or markings to indicate when they'd died.

Avoiding another green drop, I peered down the narrow hallway. There were two options: left or right. I followed the lit torches to the left.

My nose crinkled at the stench that filled the hall. A strange mixture of sweetness and . . . decay. I tripped on a dip in the floor, cursing the dim torchlight. Using one hand along the wall to maintain my balance, I continued. More of those small jade drops were scattered along the path, and the potent odor of decay grew with each step.

I neared a large alcove with stone doors, and voices filtered through it. I slowed my pace and stepped carefully to keep quiet, unsure of how deep into the catacombs I was and who might be inside them.

One door was slightly ajar, and the faint sound of Klareth's voice came from within. I stilled and tried to remember if she had any deceased family entombed in the temple, but came up blank. I stepped toward the cracked doorway until the voices were clear.

"You've been a nuisance long enough. You're out of luck. Lord Ebonhammer doesn't need you."

Lord Ebonhammer? I knew of him. He was part of the Dawn Conclave from the dwarven city of Tiruhm.

A whimper sounded. "Please. Let me go," Tryssa cried.

My hand curled into a fist against the stone, and my heart raced. I stepped closer, flattening myself against the door.

Tryssa sobbed over what sounded like chains clanking against stone.

I peeked inside.

The room was bathed in a faint green glow that originated from a large jade-like crystal sitting in place of where a sarcophagus would've been. On the back wall, Tryssa was suspended by the same rune-carved manacles Klareth used on me. Tryssa's head hung low, and blood trickled down her chin.

Klareth stood in front of her, a knife in one hand.

Along the walls were other small bodies, broken and bloodied. Had Klareth been killing other children down here? Gods, why? What's going on?

I spotted a pedestal near the large crystal. Books, bottles of strange liquid, a dagger, torn papers, and smaller crystals laid atop it. Rituals?

Klareth was the high priestess. She would have had to spend years in service to the temple, praying to Ahrea to gain her position.

No matter how I thought of it, I couldn't figure her out. Did this have something to do with why she wanted to know if the gods had abandoned the realm?

Tryssa whimpered again. "Please . . ."

Her broken, begging voice shattered my soul. She was just a teenage girl who wanted to help others, keep things fair. Nothing she ever did truly harmed anyone. I had to do something. But what? The bond wouldn't let me harm Klareth with lightning, and I wasn't confident I wouldn't hurt Tryssa in the process even if I could.

Klareth stepped toward her again and pressed the flat side of the blade beneath her chin, lifting her head slightly. "Quiet. Unlike the Golden Child, you're dispensable."

Golden Child? I'd never heard that before—but I pushed that information aside.

I darted inside. There wasn't time to think of a better plan. Tryssa's gaze connected with mine, and her eyes widened.

"Stop." My voice came out weaker than I wanted, sounding more like a plea than a command.

Klareth turned, lowering the dagger precariously closer to Tryssa's neck. Her eyes lit up with amusement and disdain. "And here I thought you'd be unconscious until morning. How did you remove the shackles?"

"Let her go."

She lowered the blade, tapping her nails against it. "Her soul must be collected. Just like the others."

Collecting souls? I needed to keep Klareth away from Tryssa. "Please. I'll . . . I'll do anything," I said, stepping closer to them.

Klareth sighed. "You already do everything I want exceptionally poorly. Being blessed as a Divine was wasted on you. But it's what I don't want you doing that is the problem." She held up a pair of the shackles. "Even after using these. It shouldn't have to be this way."

I flinched at the sight of the iron cuffs, and her vicious grin grew. I'd always felt I deserved whatever punishment she doled out for the tiniest of misgivings—for being unable to control my volatile power—after I'd accidentally killed my best friend years ago. But had it been because she hadn't been made Divine? Or was it that she wanted control over one?

Klareth looked at Tryssa again, her lips curling into a snarl. "Until your soul is marked, you will stay in line, or more will follow."

I took another step forward, but before I could respond, Klareth whirled and sliced the blade across Tryssa's throat.

My levin-coated hands flew to my throat, strangling my scream. Tears burned my eyes. Tryssa had been laughing and smiling with Teeg earlier. They'd been happy together, annoying Marus to no end.

I couldn't tear my gaze away. Blood poured from her neck. I shuffled back, bumping into the pedestal, sending books and crystals tumbling to the ground. I jerked around to find the dagger teetering on the edge.

Selena's training kicked in. I grabbed the blade and hurled it at Klareth's heart.

Klareth's mouth opened in shock, her blade slipping from her fingers. Her hand wrapped around the dagger protruding from her chest, but blood blossomed on her robes. Later, I might consider how proud Selena would have been that I had aimed for the heart and hit my mark.

I rushed to Tryssa's limp, bloodied body hanging from the chains. Blood ran from the wound in her throat, no longer spurting as it had been. She wouldn't—couldn't—die.

"I'm so sorry," I said, a sob breaking free.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and my chest ached at the sight of her. I placed my forehead to hers and my hands on her pale cheeks. Focus . I took a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out.

But no matter how hard I tried, her thread wouldn't appear. The healing power couldn't connect to her soul.

"No, no, no," I whispered, running my thumb along her still-warm skin. Her face was losing color, and her eyes had dulled.

Her life was gone, and for what? Because that bitch wanted to prove a point.

I straightened, and my arms fell to my sides, my gaze drifting to where Klareth lay. I'd killed her.

An unfamiliar sorrow had brimmed in her typically hate-filled eyes before her body went still.

What have I done?

People would know something happened when they didn't see her after a day or two. Who would take over her duties? Her husband wouldn't be able to.

And the kids . . . would they know I'd killed her? They wouldn't be wrong to think so, but it was as though I'd proved her right: they should fear me.

New tears welled up in my eyes. What am I going to do?

"I'm sorry," I said again, and ran from the room, leaving Tryssa's and Klareth's limp bodies.

My bare feet pounded against the dirty catacomb floor, stirring dust into the air. I followed the torches and found the stairs leading out. I ascended the steps by twos, and moonlight peeked in from above. The exit led into the Chamber of Gods. The stares of each alabaster statue pierced through me, and my body froze, meeting each of their judgmental gazes. My chest tightened and the lump in my throat grew.

What did the gods think? Would they strip away my Divine power, leaving me nothing? That's what I'd wanted since I'd killed him . But not like this. Not for killing her.

My body shook, and my eyes halted on Ahrea. Tears streamed down my face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just . . ."

I shook my head and ran. I couldn't stay in that room—couldn't stand to have the gods staring, judging me. Not after killing someone else. I truly wasn't worthy of the gift they'd given me.

I wrenched open the exit and collided with a hard chest. The scent of leather, rain, and citrus surrounded me. I looked up, and Caelus's deep gray eyes stared back. His full lips turned down, and his brows knitted together as he took in my appearance.

"Are you hurt?" Caelus asked, voice low.

I glanced down. Splotches of blood and dust covered my gown, but none of it was mine. Not that he knew. His only concern was whether I'd been hurt. My panicked heart swelled. I shook my head.

His features softened. "Are you okay?"

Fresh tears escaped. I couldn't bring myself to say what happened. It was all too new, too fresh. Tears escalated to sobs, and I buried my face in his chest. I'd killed her for what she'd done. And Tryssa hadn't deserved any of that.

Caelus's arms tightened around me. "You're safe," he said. "Breathe." He rubbed soothing circles along my back.

Safe. I wasn't so sure. The watchful eyes of the gods weighed on me.

He held me until my sobs subsided. Normally, I wouldn't have been comfortable crying into the chest of a man I barely knew, no matter how fond of him I'd grown in such a short time. But it felt right . Everything about being held by him had a sensation of rightness to it. Maybe later I would consider how wrong it was to want to be held by this man—protected by him—while I cried over everything that had brought me to this point.

His rough hands cupped my tear-streaked face, lifting it to meet his gaze. "What happened?"

The question I was dreading most.

I couldn't possibly tell him I'd killed the high priestess. What would he think of me? I had no idea how he'd react. Even if Klareth had deserved it, was it right?

"Eira?" His voice was gentle. Careful.

Tears stung my eyes once again. I wanted to trust him, but I didn't know him. "I can't."

My vision was blurred, but I didn't miss the hurt that washed over his expression in a blink before it hardened. "You're covered in blood, and you're telling me you're fine? I'm sorry, but that's bullshit. Something happened. Tell me. I can help you."

"I need Marus. Please."

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. "He's in the library. Let's go before anyone wakes."