Now Ariadne did as instructed. She stared at the page of unfamiliar language, very few notes scrawled in the margins in common. Of them, she made note of two in particular. The first had her questioning whether Madan was correct in assuming this was the passage they needed, as it mentioned not only Keon, but the God of the Irem Tundra and rain, Bastien. The second, a single word, had her questioning if it was something she could even do:tattoo.
Dhemons were not unfamiliar with the concept of inking their skin. Kall had borne many on his shaved head and face and arm. Lhuka and Gavrhil also bore designs, as well as many of those she had met amongst the clans that gathered inAuhla.
Vampires, however, did not hold to such customs. Caersans in particular. In fact, the only markings on their skin were the veins on their necks and the salted punctures on their wrists to mark them as very much married. To mar one’s skin was looked down upon and the reason for her insecurities surrounding her scarred back.
“What does it say?” Camilla asked, tilting the book so she could also look at the notes.
“Hold it still,” Madan said, “I’m writing it down.”
Before Ariadne could respond to either of them, Revelie crossed the room and hissed, “Someone is coming. I heard steps and—”
The latch to the door shook. Ariadne shifted her gaze up to the door, much to the annoyance of her brother looking through her eyes to read the page. But whatever he said was lost as her thunderous heartbeat once again drowned out his orders to return to the book.
“Ariadne!” A knock at the door. Loren’s next words were spoken with quiet control: “Open the door,my pet.”
Camilla groaned at the name, but her eyes lit with the same fear that now struck through Ariadne.
“Maybe if we say nothing,” Revelie whispered, “he will think we are not in here.”
Another knock, more abrupt this time. “Unlock the door.”
“ThepageAriadne!” Madan’s voice slammed into her again.
Ariadne jumped, then forced herself to focus back down at the book as her friends stood between her and the door. Her hands shook, and she silently prayed to Keon to keep them all safe.
She prayed the God of the Underworld had not abandoned them as she had been taught to believe.
Another shake of the door’s latch and then the distinct sound of the side of a fist hammering on wood rather than knuckles. She knew the change of tone well from the years of her father’s scornings. Dread turned her blood to ice, yet still Ariadne kept her eyes locked on the page.
“Almost done.” Madan’s tone remained calm and steady as though he could feel the terror spreading through her as surely as she felt his own apprehensions.
“Ariadne!” The juxtaposition in Loren’s fevered shout had her stifling a whimper. She had trained for this but had not wanted to use the skills drilled into her by Kall when she was so unprepared. So weaponless. So ill at ease.
“Madan…”
He pushed silent reassurance through the vinculum. It did not stifle the ever-rising fear.
She could not face off against a well-trained soldier in a wedding dress and with two friends he could very well use against her. And he would. He would do anything to them if they tried to get in his way.
“Open thisfuckingdoor,” Loren snarled, “or I will break it down!”
The rush that swept through Emillie at the thrill of silently communicating with her sister outmatched any other of a similar nature. To quickly and easily relay information with a mere thought had her wondering just how often those withtelepathic connections used it. She would never speak aloud again, given the opportunity to wield such power.
Yet all too soon the connection vanished, and Emillie was left feeling entirely too alone in her own mind. The absence of the other consciousnesses had her reeling back into reality with a gasp of alarm. Bright firelight had her squeezing her eyes shut and holding up a hand to block it from her sight.
“Are you alright?” Luce asked, first to her and then again, directing the question elsewhere.
Emillie cracked open her eyes to find Edira sitting slowly on a log beside Phulan and her collection of ritual items. The high fae held her head as though nursing a headache, but nodded to answer the question.
“There were so many in one place,” Edira explained. “Trying to keep them all straight was difficult at best and quite draining.”
“So many?” Luce looked between them, brows furrowing.
Edira chuckled. “No less than six in our direct chain of communication, plus all the others who made themselves known.”
From the dark area where Azriel was still being restrained came what almost sounded like a deep, rumbling laugh. Emilie startled, having forgotten the massive dragon’s presence in the shadows. His eyes glittered through the darkness at her, and she shivered at the attention. She had done well at adjusting to each introduction to a new facet of her world, but dragons remained difficult to grasp entirely.
Dragging her attention away from Razer, she refocused on those before her. “She found the book.”
