“Yourcrisand I have been talking,” he says and the casual integration of Malbolge causes my brows to lift.
Heart.
He’s calling Ryc my heart.
“Getting to know one another,” Ryc says, and his hand falls to the small of my back.
“I am envious of how right the world must feel at each other’s side,” Cenviri says and there’s a degree of mourning in his voice. “I still search for mycris.Thought I found her at one point… Idiscovered I was wrong.” His stare grows distant, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.
He returns to the present with a small shake of his head.
“Forgive me, these last few months following the release from my contract have been plagued with glimpses of a past once forgotten.” He shifts his weight on his feet, adjusting the neckline of his robes. “And it is on that,” he gestures to my waist—to the leather pouch secured at my hip, “I need to speak and you must listen.”
I resist the urge to draw my cloak around me, tucking away the pouch. It contains my soul crystal. Leaving it behind in Ollora didn’t feel the wisest choice.
“If the gods discover what you carry, you and your loved ones will no longer be safe,” he says, his mossy green eyes volleying between Ryc and me.
“How do you know what I carry?” I ask, my voice scathing.
Beside me, Ryc tenses. Eve and Cyran appear on our flank and three of Cenviri’s Generals stride up behind the necromancer. A tiny vibration in my chest serves as a warning—Cenviri’s House will not tolerate disrespect of their patriarch.
“I was contracted to hunt errant souls,” Cenviri answers, ignoring the sharpness of my tone. “The energy of a soul crystal such as the one you carry isverydistinct. I don’t know how you’ve managed to find it, or if you fully understand what it is you carry, but if you seek to avoid the pantheon’s attention, rid yourself of it.”
Eve laughs. “And let me guess, you’re gonna offer to take it.”
A broad smile crosses Cenviri’s face. “Yes, but with good reason. There are others. I seek to reunite the halves.”
“There are others?” I ask as my eyes grow wide.
“Yes, quite a few,” he answers with a nod. “As far as I know, the three I surrendered to Netharis still remain in the hells. One of which is mine.”
The necromancergaveNetharis half of his soul?
More than that… his is alsogold?
“Why?” Ryc asks, bewildered by the answer. “Why give him a portion of your soul?”
“For power,” Eve retorts with a dry huff.
“For love,” Cenviri corrects in much softer tones. “A fool’snotion, I know. Netharis required my Fated soul as collateral. He promised its release, along with that of my mate’s—mycris—when I delivered the others. That one,” he points again to my hip, “Is a piece I found buried in the mire of the Eastern Wynds several centuries ago.”
Half of me… found in Cerwiden?
“You,” the breathy word escapes my lips, “found it.. inCerwiden?And gave it to Netharis?”
Too many questions swirl in my head.
That could explain how it came to be in the hells. But… if Netharis contracted anecromancerto find these souls, he wouldn’t have let them fall to the wayside. They wouldn’t wind up in the library. They would have been secured, protected, and hoarded like bloodstone.
Or kept on quiet display… like Zuriel.
“No, I did not.” Cenviri’s brows crease as he shakes his head. “I gave the soul to Zuriel. I would have given it to anyone powerful enough to keep it out of Netharis’ hands.”
Stop.
Fate needs to stop.
Zuriel?
