“Pierus. He was once a sovereign of distant lands. Now he has asserted his rule here, under the name of the Orchid King.”
My legs wobble as I push to my feet and adjust the dried, crusted fabric around my legs. No matter how hard I try, I am unable to smooth my ragged breathing.
“Heavenly Father,” I whisper. “Guide me through the darkest waters. Lead me to your house of worship.”
Zephyrus peers at me. All emotion has been wiped clean from his features. “Your god cannot help you here.”
The light he holds goes dark.
The tautness in my chest fuses into a cold, hard diamond, an ache of sharp points. “Can you turn the light back on?” I feel lightheaded. “Please?”
“Pierus has temporarily blocked its ability to glow. He knows I have it and would prefer to make me as uncomfortable as possible. We will have to walk in the dark.”
I fall mute. My tongue, slack with rising terror, will not take shape.
A warm hand cups my elbow, and he murmurs, low enough that I’m certain the sound does not carry, “Do not fret. The darkness is not forever.” Gently, Zephyrus draws me forward. “Put your hand on the wall,” he says. “Let it be your guide.”
Damp rock whispers against my glove. If I close my eyes, I can almost convince myself this darkness is one I have chosen.
“I heard a scream earlier,” I murmur, oddly reassured by Zephyrus’ presence. “Did he hurt you?”
“Pierus enjoys his punishments.” As the passageway narrows, the air turns to frost in my mouth. “Remember not to speak your name. Of all those in Under to be bound to, Pierus is the worst.”
He does not have to worry about that. I am as tight-lipped as they come. “How did he capture your name?”
A touch guides me to the left. Zephyrus steps so lightly I cannot hear his boots making contact with the grass. “Pierus and I have long been acquainted, unfortunately. Although he possesses my name, that is not what binds me to him.”
Since venturing into Under, my questions have multiplied, and here is another tossed onto the pile, this mystery surrounding the Bringer of Spring. If he is not bound to the Orchid King by name, then what?
“When you see him, try not to stare, and do your best to make polite conversation. Pierus appreciates the effort.” His hand spasms around my arm, and we slow. “You can open your eyes.”
We stand inside a shining, moonlit cavern, its walls dripping silver. Pink blooms capped in tiny, curling petals carpet the earth, interspersedamong the grass. Roses. It explains the honeyed aroma. But what awaits us against the opposite wall strikes me with numbing cold.
The man’s lower body appears to have been consumed by the nightshade plant—enormous, carnivorous flowers flushed scarlet and shaped like open mouths. Roots, pale and lumpy as spoiled milk, slither from beneath the leaves and vines shielding his lower half from view. His torso is humanoid, though a few blossoms have erupted through the naked skin of his muscled shoulders, their stems heavily spined, pricked red, red, red.
“Hello, young novitiate.” The man cannot be fair folk, for his eyes do not resemble stone. They are like mine, like those of the Bringer of Spring, though this man’s are blue. “You smell of the incense they burn in the church.”
Remembering Zephyrus’ advice, I nod politely. “We burn it every Holy Day.”
He lifts a clawed hand. A ropy vine slinks toward me along the ground, gently parting the overgrown grass. I recoil, slamming into Zephyrus’ chest as Pierus coaxes, “Let me have a closer look at you.”
The vine locks around my wrist. It tugs, forcing me to step forward or be dragged. And there the vine remains, a heavy bracelet, faintly spined.
Pierus gives me a thorough once-over. My cheeks grow warm from the attention. “May I ask what they call you?” he inquires.
I thought I was prepared for this question, but truthfully, my mind blanked the moment the light vanished in the tunnel. “You may call me novitiate.”
A small, secret smile graces the man’s mouth. Were his body not so hideously unnatural, I might consider him handsome. “Zephyrus has taught you well.” Pierus turns his attention to the Bringer of Spring, who stands isolated in a corner. “Though I wonder why he has brought you here. Mortals are forbidden to visit Under except on the eve of the tithe.”
I look from Zephyrus to the Orchid King. “He claimed I would be granted amnesty. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“Nonsense.” Strands of silver hair slide across his smooth, hairless chest, that chiseled abdomen. “The ritual will not take long. If you have a weak stomach, I suggest you avert your gaze.”
A low buzz begins to vibrate my eardrums.Run, a voice hisses, but my feet are rooted. “Ritual?”
The Orchid King lifts his eyebrows. They veer sharply together, forming a severe mountain peak. “He did not tell you? But I should not be surprised.”
“She doesn’t need to see this,” Zephyrus growls, the first words he has uttered since entering the cavern. “Allow her to wait in the tunnel until the ritual is completed.”
