“Here is your room, your majesty,” Calla said, offering her a polite smile. It was a careful smile, one intended to appear friendly and harmless. Her sharp claws motioned to another entryway where Alora spotted a tub carved into the stone floor, steam rising from the water within. A vanity rested near the bed, already filled with dark glass bottles and combs made of silver. “There is a bathing chamber there. Clothing, and anything else you need the castle will provide. But do let me know if you have other needs that must be sourced elsewhere.”
Alora’s stomach gurgled at that moment.
“Ah, right.” Calla frowned. “Forgive me. Human food is not easy to come by… seeing as our kind has a particular diet.” She trailed off, her brow furrowing. “Your Majesty?—”
“Please call me by my name,” she said quietly.
The demoness bowed her head. “Of course. Alora, please heed my warning. Do not wander the castle alone without myself, Deimos, Hadeon, or Rune. Sustenance will be brought to your chambers. No matter how tempting, do not eat demon food. Not unless you wish to be bound to the dark.”
Alora’s throat dried, wondering what that meant.
“Can I provide anything else?”
Alora’s throat tightened. There was little she possessed of true value, yet their absence made her feel naked in this strange, dark place.
“There are a few belongings of mine left behind in my rooms in Argyle,” she said softly. “A satchel with items that held meaning to me.”
Calla inclined her head. “It will be done.”
Folding an arm across her chest, the demoness bowed and vanished in a swirl of smoke.
Alora stood alone in the unfamiliar chamber, her mind slowly processing everything that had happened as she stared at her new home.
The stillness was too deep.
Perhaps a bath would help. She went through an arched stone doorway into a cavern cloaked in steam. The pool was a hot spring shimmering beneath the rock ceiling. Stalagmites glistened, and the pool shone faintly from some unseen light beneath the water. Scents of lavender and mineral filled the air. A wooden bench rested beside it with oils and folded towels.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the water. Her reflection wavered, unsteady. As if the mountain itself questioned her presence.
She dipped her toes in. Warmth curled around her skin, welcoming and soothing. Undressing, Alora slipped into the spring and sank up to her shoulders. The lower edge had been carved into a bench.
She leaned her head back against the bath’s rim, the hot water loosening the knots in her muscles though it couldn’t touch the weight in her chest. What would her father think of her now and of the choices she had made?
Her chest tightened as she thought of that night of the keep and Rune’s glowing eyes falling on her father.
All choices have consequences, songbird.I cannot spare you from this one.
Alora stilled, the steam rising around her thickening. Did he know? Had he known her father would die? He was a god. His reach stretched far beyond her comprehension. If Rune had foreseen this and kept silent…
Her throat tightened as she thought of the spindle next.
He had stolen it, kept it from her when she tried to take it again. But it was originally her mother’s... traded through a bargain that, too, bore Rune’s fingerprints.
His shadows moved the pieces, his designs tangled with theirs.
Alora covered her mouth with a shaky hand. Both her parents were gone, and somehow, in every path of ruin, his shadow lingered.
Hatred stirred in her chest, hot and choking. He was no savior. He was death.
And now he wanted to sink his claws into her.
Water splashed as Alora climbed out of the spring. She needed a plan.
Escape wouldn’t be easy. The tunnels twisted in all directions like a labyrinth of stone. There were no stars, no wind to guide her. The shadows moved wherever she went, lurking in every corner.
Even when she didn’t see Rune, shefelthim.
Alora wrapped a towel around herself, slowing as she remembered a cold truth. Argyle remained in Calveron’s clutches. If her kingdom had any hope of fighting back, she needed all of her peopleawake.
