“Reina,” Thalia practically hissed. She stepped closer, ignoring the glinting of her armor. “I don’t—I don’t know why you won’t talk to me, why you’re so cold. But please. Please just tell me where she’s gone. You owe me that much.”
Reina’s eyes sharpened into a glittering coin. Thalia thought she’d refuse her until she spoke so softly that Thalia had to lean into her. “The chapel.”
Thalia made a face. The chapel? What on earth would her mother be doing there?
Thalia turned away, glancing at Cassius. He’d been approached by Kamith, the adviser quickly drawing him into a conversation.
With Cassius distracted, he didn’t notice as she slipped from the throne room in search of the missing queen.
Chapter Forty-One
The chapel was empty. No braziers were lit, nor was there any other indication that her mother was anywhere in the room.
She avoided looking toward the altar where she and Cassius had stood, their hands bound.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
Thalia moved deeper, trying to figure out where her mother could be. Had Reina lied to her? The thought sent a sour tang through her mouth.
She pushed it aside, heading to a door near the back of the space. She knew it opened to a small corridor that led to the priest’s rooms along with a few areas to pray.
But Thalia didn’t pray to anyone’s long-dead gods. She shoved the door open, stepping into the cold hallway.
The priest’s bedchamber was closed, but there was a smaller door at the end of the hall that stood ajar.
Thalia walked toward it without a thought, opening it to a small prayer room.
Her heart picked up at the sight of a door in the ground. It probably led to the wine cellar, and Thalia eased it open, pushing aside the memory of the last time she’d ventured down into an unknown space. Lucarius was dead. And no Vampyrs would be in this room. None would be foolish enough to venture this far into Agripa.
She eased down the steps, and faint murmuring drifted up toward her. Thalia stopped at the base of the stairs, light bleeding into the small space.
It was indeed a wine cellar, containing barrels crusted with dust and cobwebs. But in the middle of the stone room stood the queen.
“This won’t do, Marcus.” The queen’s voice wove its way to Thalia, causing her spine to lock up. “I asked specifically which trenches are still usable.”
Thalia pressed against the wall, her heart rate starting to rise.
“I’ve tried, Your Majesty.” Marcus’s tired words echoed. He sat on a wooden chair, piles of books around him. “But our maps are old—outdated. Perhaps we could ask Thalia? She’s traveled all over Agripa; maybe she knows—”
“No.” The queen’s harsh words had Marcus faltering. “She does not need to get involved.”
Marcus sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. At least he’d taken Thalia’s advice and rested; his face was freshly shaven. “I’ll keep searching, then.”
The queen nodded. “And the other thing I asked you?”
Marcus shook his head. “It would be helpful to know exactly what you were searching for and how it pertains to this.”
Thalia stifled her gasp as Marcus shifted.
She hadn’t noticed the iron cage behind him, hidden in shadow. The light from the braziers landed on the person held within.
Not a person—a Vampyr.
She was chained against the stone wall, a mask of iron wrapped around her skull and over her mouth. Her hair was unkempt, her clothing torn and dirty.
But it was her eyes, dull and glassy, the saliva dripping through the corners of the mask and landing in a puddle on the ground, that had Thalia’s heart rate spiking.
“This creature is sick,” the queen said, a frown pulling on her elegant brow.
