I don’t turn around. My shoulders are stiff, my emotions like turbid waters beneath the falls, clouded with churning sediment, roiling with thoughts that fall out of my control.
“You guys do know that voices carry when you’re in a Divine-damned tunnel, right?” Lu drawls.
Movement in the corner of my eye has my gaze catching onto Ryatt’s face. The anger that he spewed seems to have emptied him out, because instead of hate on his face, there’s remorse instead. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something to me, but then he shakes his head and turns, walking away.
Lu looks over my shoulder. “Who pissed in his porridge?”
Braving his expression, I turn, letting my eyes flick up. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing Auren out tonight,” he says to Lu.
“She needed to get out of the Grotto.”
All three of our attention snags to the fire, where Ryatt is now surrounded by villagers. Looking at him, you would never know that he was practically spitting anger just a few moments ago. Right now, he looks relaxed. Happy. There’s no indication whatsoever of the emotion that must still be churning in his head. Instead, he seems completely at ease in the camaraderie of the people around him as they laugh and talk.
Until his eyes snap to mine from across the space, making my stomach go sour as I turn away.
I want her gone.
We all saw her in that ballroom.
Fifty-seven people.
I open my mouth to say...something, but every turbulent thought grinds to a halt when I spot something against Slade’s cheek. “Is that blood?”
He lifts a hand to his face and tries to wipe it away, but all that does is spread it.
“Is that yours? Are you hurt?” Maybe he and Ryatt actually came to blows before I came over?
But Slade shakes his head. “It’s not mine.”
“Then whose?” Ryatt didn’t look like he’d gotten hit, didn’t have any visible blood.
Slade’s eyes dart to the right. Back toward the tunnel, and a chill scatters down my spine.
“Whose blood is that?” I ask again.
His green eyes flick to Lu, and they exchange a loaded look.
“Gildy,” she says, moving up beside me. “How about you and I go finish up our wine—”
I shove away before either of them can stop me, plunging into the fissure where Slade and Ryatt just were. I hear him calling my name, but I ignore him, just as I ignore the darkness I’m suddenly plunged into, even the way the claustrophobic walls seem to press in on me as I scramble through.
Something drives me forward, my pulse pounding in my ears, and then I’m through the crack and stumbling into a dimly lit cavern. The first thing I see is the thick iron door. A barrel and chair shoved against the jagged walls. Lanterns hanging from a hook. Somehow, the fluorescence in here looks more sinister, like the veins of the mountain have spoiled into a sickly green in some parts.
I hear footsteps behind me, so I push forward, my pulse thumping loudly in my ears. I approach the door, peering through the slats at the top. At first, I can’t even discern what exactly I’m looking at.
But the smell...
“Auren.”
Slade’s hand comes down to my arm, trying to gently pull me away, but I shrug him off. My eyes are adjusting to the dark, my mind telling me what I’m seeing, even as it simultaneously revolts against it. But there’s no denying that person-sized lump.
The smell wafting from the room grows more intense the longer I stand here, and I pin my lips together, trying to hold my breath. Yet the putrid scent feels like it’s sinking into my pores, clogging my skin with its foulness, making my stomach roil. And there’s a sound, an incessant buzzing that seems to vibrate all the way through my bones.
I’m about to turn away, about to ask Slade who this is, when a pair of swollen eyes spring open, the shine of them catching in the low lantern light.
I gasp and stumble back a step.
How can he bealive?
