Her mother had loved Ozik, enough to give him access to her power. And he had murdered her in cold blood. That dark power consumed him—it must have fed on Vena’s magic the way it now fed on Vaasa’s.
Their escape hinged on her finding the necklace; she was certain. Dominik had hidden it in their mother’s sarcophagus. It was a place she could gain entry to.
“Promise me you’ll make sure she’s okay,” Vaasa begged.
“I promise,” Roman swore. “But we need to go,now.”
Vaasa’s instinct snapped into motion. She forced her body to turn and run, and then Roman sprinted behind her into the stairwell. Something sounded from down the stairs, and Roman froze. Guards. “Run,” he told her. “We can’t be here.”
Wrapping his hand around hers, Roman broke into a sprint, and Vaasa forced her feet to move. They took the stairs to the fourth floor, Roman smoothly inserting the key and hauling them through the door. It took only two steps until Roman pressed his back against the wall, waiting and listening. Vaasa hoped she would hear the people on the stairs open and close a door, leaving the stairwell empty so they could escape.
Vaasa breathed in. Out. Roman worked on a door next to them, sticking keys in and frantically trying to turn the lock.
The footsteps sounded on their level, and Vaasa knew the people were coming through the door immediately in front of them. Roman must have figured that out, too, because he unlocked the latch to what Vaasa assumed was a supply closet next to them. He pulled her unceremoniously through it, landing them in a room with little to no light. Immediately, she registered that the space around her was larger than any supply closet could be. She didn’t know where they’d gone. She could hardly focus on the tight grip Roman kept on her hand. She needed time to consider what she would say to him, how she would frame what she’d seen.
Darkness covered every inch of space around them.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. They came closer and closer.
And then they passed, going farther down the hall until Vaasa couldn’t hear them anymore.
Neither she nor Roman dared to speak. The silence was an echo onto itself, as daunting as the approaching footsteps had been.
“What just happened?” Roman finally whispered into the night.
Vaasa shook her head in confusion, her magic riling when she couldn’t see or escape. She hadn’t come upon an explanation yet, a way to twist this. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest. Her pulse thrummed in her own mind.
“Vaasa,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she hissed through her teeth.
“You’re lying,” Roman snarled. He stepped into her space, his body looming close enough that she could see the outline of his once-comely features. Their breath mingled. Something in his eyes darkened as he looked upon her. As questions furrowed his brow. Distrust wove into the harsh pull of his mouth. “I watched it, Vaasa. I watched what that magic did to you—yet you live. Who is Veragi?”
Vaasa’s throat threatened to close, a lump sitting inside it at hearing the goddess’s name. She had taken Amalie over, had shown those images to VaasathroughAmalie. Emotions filled Vaasa to the point of bursting—Roman’s, hers. Her magic needed escape. “I don’t know,” she swore.
Roman raised his voice. “Honesty, Vaasa. You promised me honesty!”
She covered his mouth with her hands. “Be quiet!”
Silence coursed between them, the uncomfortable kind that set her on edge. This silence was deafening. It twisted her fear and amplified it.
She looked past his shoulder, her eyes having adjusted to the darkness, and made out the shape of a table. Vaasa’s handsdropped from Roman’s mouth, and she stepped past him, more of the room becoming identifiable.
There were iron chains attached to the wooden table, and a small counter space at the back of the room. Vaasa crossed to it, looking at sharp tools crafted of metal and wood. Torture devices. Vaasa turned away with her hand over her mouth. She faced the center table and inspected those heavy iron chains. Reaching out tentatively, she touched them.
The iron hummed on her fingertips, and she pulled away, recognizing the material as the same one Lord Vlacik had confined her in. Dread pooled low in her stomach. She knew this room.
She turned to Roman, who watched her closely, his eyes inspecting her in the darkness.
He had the key.
Bile rose in her throat.Water, water, water, Vaasa thought to herself. Melisina’s voice filled her mind, a memory from the day she had hidden beneath a table and her coven had crawled under it with her.Whatever form the magic takes right now, picture it as water. It is trickling and flowing, slipping back down to its home.
She darted her gaze to the door, but there was no way out. Roman stood in the path. Something deep inside her cracked, a fissure rooted in the past.
He had the key.
“How long were you working for Vlacik?” she whispered.
