Chapter Twenty-Five

Kierse stashed the envelope in her clutch and then hauled the vault door closed behind her. She turned the dial on the vault and then headed back the way she had come. Her feet were slow, slow, slowing. She trailed her hand along the wall to keep herself upright. She stumbled another step, landing hard on her hands and knees. She cursed softly when she righted herself and saw that her left knee was bleeding and her hands were scraped up. She had tripped over her own feet, which was odd, since she wasn't clumsy.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the stairs. And it was only her heightened sense of awareness that made her stop before ascending.

There were voices coming from directly above her.

Kierse scrambled backward and around the corner, pressing her body against the wall as hard as she could. She prayed that she hadn't tripped some alarm. That they weren't coming for her, because she was in no state to fight. She could hardly stand.

"He was the one who said he wanted to sell?" a voice she didn't recognize inquired.

"Yeah. It's not like him." This was definitely Montrell's baritone.

"Are you suspicious?"

"Of Graves?" Montrell asked with an easy laugh. "Of everything he's ever done in his life."

"And yet, you're going to send crates of wish powder with him?"

Montrell sighed. "We are. Just the red powder. And we'll watch him. See how it goes from there."

The pair had reached the bottom of the stairs. Kierse held her breath. Sweat gleamed on her forehead, and she felt fatigued and malnourished all at the same time. She could barely concentrate on what they were saying.

"Seems risky."

"Everything with Graves is a risk. After what he did to me..."

But Kierse didn't get to find out what that was. Montrell and the other man had turned left and were heading toward the underground chamber full of wish powder. This was her opening. She hurried to the stairs and raced up them as fast as she could. Which ended up not being very fast. She stumbled twice, her hand slipping against the stone wall and causing her to fall up the stairs.

To her relief, no one was guarding the upstairs door. She found the latch after a few swipes at the release and entered the study.

Her fever spiked, and she moaned as it ate at her. She needed to get to Graves.

Kierse ignored the bookshelf. She hardly had the strength to get it back into place. And why bother at this point? Hopefully they would think that Montrell hadn't closed it all the way.

Kierse exited the study. Coming back into the light of the party was like entering a different world. Everyone was sweating from dancing, so her heat didn't even look out of place. She staggered like the rest of the partygoers. Her heels barely held her up. She should have left them behind. They were just a hindrance.

A man stepped up to her. "You want to have a little fun?"

She blinked at him, finding him fuzzy around the edges. "Graves," she gasped out.

"Call me whatever you like, sweetheart."

"No," she said, pushing him away.

But her strength was gone. It was an illusion. All of her many ways of taking down a grown man had evaporated. She was nothing but a small, pathetic, human girl. And this man wouldn't listen to her. He kept pushing her backward. It made no sense. Everyone else in the party was a willing participant. They wanted this. Why her?

Her brain shut down. Retreated to that horrible little place she had made for herself. The place where she could go and live alone and away. Compartmentalize her pain until she didn't feel it... didn't remember its brutality.

Then a hand clamped down on the man's shoulder. "She said no." The voice was brutal and ancient. "You should learn to respect a woman's answer."

"Ah, we were just having fun. And dressed like that..."

"If you say that she was asking for it," Graves said, low and gravelly, "I will rip out your throat with my bare hands."

The guy backed away and held his hands up. "Sure. Sure, dude. No problem. I didn't mean any harm."

"This is in clear violation of the rules of the party. This will get back to the goddess."

The man paled. "I didn't mean..."

Graves was already turning away from him, his focus on Kierse. The man glanced between them and then scampered away.

"Wren?" Graves said. That voice was different somehow. Softer. Concerned, even. "My wren, are you okay? What happened?"

"Hot," she whispered. "I just wanted to be hot, and now... I am."

"Fuck," he spat.

Then, without a thought, Graves lifted Kierse into his arms. His heat mingled with her own. Called to it.

Her mind drifted now that she was safe. Drifted far, far away. She saw a winged lion roaring from a dais made of stone. A crowned dragon breathing fire in answer to the lion. A group of sheep for the slaughter. Everything erupted into death, and she closed her eyes against the hallucination.

Then she saw black.

And then she saw nothing.