Topp plummeted. He was a boulder off a cliff with no idea what lay below.
Legs and arms reaching, he scraped against the sides of the chute, attempting to slow himself down.There. Pushing off the wall, he threw himself into the dark.
Topp hit the ground hard, skidding against packed dirt. Laying there, sore and dazed, he was infinitely grateful there was no one to see him sprawled face down like an incompetent moron. Up ahead, the faint gleam of light beckoned and he could smell fresh air drifting in. Lifting his face off the dirt, he spotted a squashed grape several steps ahead. He dropped back to the ground with a grin.
Right on track.
Topp broke out into the courtyard, mud seeping into the knees of his pants as he heaved himself out. He’d lived in Relaclave on and off since birth, and he was ashamed to say he’d never ventured into the tunnels. Right below his feet was an entire network of entrances and exits, but his eyes had always been out the window, looking into the distance.
Soot-stained mist and damp air kissed his face now as he glanced around the empty castle grounds. He’d spent many an afternoon training, right here in the rain and cold. Fingers practically frozen to his weapons. He could fight if he had to, just like any of the king’s men. He was strong enough—fast and agile. But tracking and stealth were where he shone. All those hours of stalking through the forest, honing his eyes and mind.
Every bit of moss stamped down, broken twig askew, and scent on the wind called to him. Silent clues turning the path bright like a guiding star on a cloudless night.
Eyes to the damp ground, he strolled out of the castle grounds, certain of Elysia’s steps. He followed her out into the fading light of Relaclave’s streetlamps, feeling as though he might for the first time be able to do something good. A single strike in favor of his redemption. He knew it didn’t hold a candle to his failures.
Never mind the many hunts against his own. That was a damage he could never undo. Beyond their deaths, in his heart of hearts, he knew he was a coward. A better man would have relieved his father of the throne, damning the consequences. But he hadn’t. Endless lives lost as he bided his time, hoping to unravel Kava’s secrets—no matter what everyone told themselves, magic didn’t just disappear.
His time outside of Kava while growing up had changed him. Being with people and lands full of life and magic. There was no denying that Kava was sick, decaying before their eyes. It was like no one could remember the before, or maybe they just didn’t want to—he couldn’t blame them. What was the point?
But he would find an answer, and maybe these people were a start.
The black, iron streetlamps cast a warm, almost orange tinted, filter over the cobble streets and the people walking along them. A couple strode past, hand in hand, sweet grins upon their faces as they hurried home in the late hour. Soot from the sky, soot from the unkept lamps. The dark smoky glow of the streets could have been romantic. Between the mist dotting your skin and the shadowed light, he could see it.
But he wasn’t hand in hand with his love. He was tracking her just the same as an animal in the woods or a man on the run.
The thought sent a shiver racing up his spine all the way to his head. He knew this feeling. The thrill of prey in his sights.
He was hopeful there would be no death or reports of treason to make in the morning like there usually was when he sank into this part of himself. If he was lucky, there would only be answers bringing him closer to his aims.
The breeze shifted, and he swore her scent was on the distant sea wind.
The volatile nature within him hummed a warning, but he was already moving and could no longer hear the sound.
Chapter 22
Elysia had almost reachedthe sea. Feet planted on cobblestones made dark with mist, her silhouette stood stark against the warm flame of the streetlamp beside her, sea wind blowing her hair back like thin tendrils of night. Fingers cold and curled beneath her cloak, she inhaled the damp salty air with its notes of dirt and fish.
She was putting off the inevitable.
There was only one way she was going to find Rollie’s clandestine group of the cursed in time, but she was loath to do it. Her body stood stiff and rigid in its bid for self protection. Her magic was a liability and she knew it. She’d be lying if she said she never enjoyed the loss of control—the feeling of the magic taking over, heady and intoxicating. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. She needed her wits about her if she was going to be successful. She was well aware her magic did not seem to have any regard for her wellbeing or her goals—only the secrets that it sought. And a secret like this, an entire group of illegal magic wielders meeting in the dead of night, was bound to pull her under.
There were some secrets that were simple. Short and sweet to the ear. Ringing out, then fading fast like the opening chordto your favorite song. So easy to catch and let go. Harmless, really. And then there were secrets that were sticky like tree sap, refusing to leave your skin no matter how much you tried to wash them away.
It was too easy for her to become caught in the magic of all that wished to be known. Secrets, much like humans, simply wanted to be heard. For someone to listen, the presence of another soul to act as a light and shelter for their ragged edges.
But it was dangerous. There was always the risk of falling into a trance, the magic overruling her sense of self.
She was on the sand now, staring out at the sea. Slippers soaked through, she set off in the direction of the water beneath the docks, ignoring her painfully numb toes. Particles of sand stuck to the tops of her feet, kicking up and hitting her calves with each step.
Eyes glued to the dirty white foam of crashing waves, she gathered her resolve. If she fell into a trance, then every single thing she had done to gain entry to this society of magic wielders would be for naught. Her shoulders rose, tensing at the thought. She needed to be clear. Clear and ready to extract the information she needed from these people.Easier said than done.
A sharp wind stung her cheeks, and she clenched her fists. But she wouldn’t learn anything at all if she never found them. Elysia looked up at the dark, nearly starless sky. For a moment, she felt loamy earth under her feet instead of sand and saw a haze of red cross over the moon. The flash of her recurring dream snapped her resistance, driving her out into the icy sea.
That haunting nightmare had started all of this. Icy water slapped against her ankles in harsh agreement.If only my magic hadn’t changed.Elysia extinguished the thought before it could fully form. Because her magic had changed. And that wretchednightmare of a dream had led her to here, this moment, searching for a sliver of hope beneath the sea.
Grim determination settled her breath, bringing her focus inward. Unruly magic or not, she was going to find those people, and with them, answers. Her magic responded, eager to drown her in its rush. Heart rapid, she strained against the potent sensation, forcing herself to sift through the torrent of whispers and tugs this way and that.
Body swaying, her feet stumbled, water crashing over ankles and spraying against her. The sea’s chill did nothing to deter her, though. Her mind’s eye was locked onto the mass of dark, vibrating threads all converging in one death-riddled web. An undercurrent of fear coated the strands. Matte and dry, they looked as if they might crumble.
