Her attention shifts then lingers on me before she carefully ties another bundle. My eyes close slowly, hating how bizarre her words are. It’s like these women have been alive for so long, they’re starting to forget how basic communication works. The wafts of offering trapped inside this cave help to ease the rising emotion.
Then it clicks in my mind. Maybe they haven’t forgotten at all.
It makes perfect sense.
Oh my gods and goddess, how have we not thought of this sooner?!
“Where we found her last, where she was last, was in the bell tower. They’re saying she’s where we found her last. Not where we saw her. Where we found her last was in the bell tower in that damn graveyard. And remember the weird shit Vi said about how much her father loved that place? His place of peace.” Carver grabs my shoulder and I sway.
His words stumble as he looks to me. I try to nod along, but I’m not sure that my head is moving as fast as my thoughts are. The thick smoke wafts around our bodies, curling around me like it’s trying to pull me in. The white eyes of the Reveries are held on me.
“You should check there,” the sister closest to us says, her voice quiet but assured. Her straightforward comment pulls my gaze back to her, and she doesn’t look at me as she ties the small bundle together in a tight bow. “And take this with you.” Her slender hand extends to me, presenting me another offering. I nearly sag with relief and hold onto it tighter than I should. Some part of me worries that Carver will slap it out of my hands.
“Where you wander is not where your journey will lead.” She looks to Carver. My stomach turns with every eerie word she speaks. What she says causes my heart to falter. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions while other hopeful travels are made of aspiring dreams, love, and ambitions. Sometimes both roads lead to the same despair.”
* * *
My eyes dart to Carver’s back pocket. He turns to look at me, and I quickly look away. Great, now he probably thinks I was looking at his ass. I wasn’t. The bundle of herbs the Reveries gave us was plucked from my hand the moment we left that damn cave, and he has carried it ever since.
Some shit about him not trusting me...
I don’t trust me. Not now, not when I should be focused on Violence, on getting into the waiting bell tower, and on destroying King Melic’s chance at an army or whatever he is doing in there. Instead, my mind keeps drifting back to the feeling of leaving my body and the reward of Violence’s gentle touches.
I want that offering. I need it.
Forcing my eyes closed, I slow to allow some semblance of space between me and Carver. My fingers itch at my side, so I shove them deep into my pockets.
“You okay?” Carver stops walking. I only know this because I walk directly into his back.
A wheeze rushes from my lungs. Somewhere out in the distance, an animal snarls and birds take flight into the night sky. Even the light of the moon as it cascades over cracked, moss-covered graves is too much for me.
“Just a bad headache. Don't worry about me.” With the palm of my hand, I usher him forward. My eyes trail back down to the bundle that sticks out from his pocket.
Take it. It would be so easy. He isn’t even paying attention.
A series of warmer days have come and gone. A brisk wind carrying weather promising of snow has settled upon the Court of Darkness. Even as the cold air manages to find its way into my lungs, I still sweat through my clothing. I tug and I pull, but it plasters itself slickly to my frame.
“Goddess, I hope she’s here,” my friend murmurs under his breath.
My head pulses, pressure threatening to split my skull in two. Curling my hands into fists, my nails dig into my palms. A small pain. Some ounce of distraction.
Bright, glimmering stars reflect off the old bell that hangs at the top of the ivy-covered tower. The moon outlines the tilting structure with an innocent glow. Neither of us are fooled.
Hanging from its hinges, the door is already open and waiting. Thick silence surrounds us as we enter and take to the smooth stairs covered in fallen leaves and cobwebs. The walls of the bell tower echo our every step.
Carver’s fingers find his belt. I catch the glint of his blade as he pulls it free, and I feel the hilt of my own weapon. He pushes open the door at the top step. Together, we hold our breath, waiting.
I know he won’t be there. The king won’t be waiting with a cliché villainous smile on his damn face when we walk through the door. But the nervousness striking through my veins demands I be prepared for anything. Carver can feel it too. Our connection through the Hunt binds us in such a way that our emotions build and mimic each other.
My wide shoulders push the door open wider as I follow, and it swings with a crawling cry of the hinges. Crumbled brick, a mess of papers, and shattered glass litter the floor. The circular room has one single window that looks out at the gravestones lining the land.
“Where we saw her first and last and somewhere in the middle, huh?” I stride into the wrecked room, kicking at broken shards stained with dry black liquid.
There are no further doors within the room. There were no doors in the halls aside from the one leading here. My chin lifts, only to examine the massive bell hanging above us, letting in the freezing evening air.
The king’s place of peace might not be what we’re looking for.
“Could her words have had a different meaning?” Carver leans in the doorway, watching my blade fume smoke as I let it rest against the old floorboards.
