“I think we should wait for Eimear,” Róisín answered, rising. “Just to be safe. She might see something.”
Raevina huffed. “I thought she couldn’t see down here.”
“A seer’s visions are ever-changing. Even a small decision can develop new threads.”
Raevina rubbed her temples. “Fine. Then let’s start at the level above. We’re wasting time.”
RÓISÍN VANISHED back up the stairs, then they began combing through the shelves just above the bottom floor. There were more artifacts down here than Arianna had seen in the floors above. Old weapons, keys, crowns, locks that couldn’t be opened no matter what runes they tried, folders full of handwritten documents, and books, books, books.
The information was … staggering. Arianna flipped through tomes, finding history that, for the first time in her life, she found interesting. There were entire volumes that contradicted everything she’d ever been taught. Their forgotten past.
After a while, Arianna moved to the floor above with Rion and a few warriors in close proximity. Talon and Raevina remained below.
Arianna paused at the top of the stairs, studying the shelves before making her way to the back. She ran her fingers over the spines, reading each title in passing, searching, waiting for something to jump out at her.
Nothing did.
She kept moving, wondering about the secrets hidden by their ancestors. Arianna met the back wall and followed it, examining the rear part of the shelves. She paused at another statue, this one resembling something that she’d labeled as one of the Dark Fae. It definitely wasn’t a Guardian. The creature stared at her with a gaping mouth full of sharp teeth and claws that promised an unpleasant death.
Arianna chewed her lip. War. She had seen multiple battles already. She’d witnessed the bloodshed firsthand. But what they were to face next would be entirely different. It wasthe last of the Fae against an army Vairik had been building for centuries. Dread seeped through her. Could they really win?
Arianna moved onto the next statue and a shiver ran down her spine. This one walked on all fours. It had the head of a lion, massive bat-like wings, and the tail of a scorpion. She was willing to bet it was the venomous sort.
Arianna glanced down the long corridor. Statues stood at the end of each bookcase, the next appearing even more sinister than the last. Her heart sank further. There were so many creatures with fangs and claws. Could magic and blades emerge victorious? Eimear claimed she only saw one way to their victory. They only had one chance to get everything right. If they failed, ifshefailed—
Arianna shivered again, the cold seeping into her bones. Something draped across her shoulders and she whirled. Rion stood a hair’s breadth away, arms raised, eyes wide. His jacket slipped from his fingers, then the wall … moved. Bricks shifted, came alive, wrapped around his body, and dragged him into the stone itself.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rion
Rion’s world spun, his mind reeling as he tried to sort through the last several moments. The wall had … swallowed him. He’d seen nothing but swirling gray for several long seconds before everything had come to a jarring halt.
He was standing, but—panic flooded his veins and he gasped when chains rattled overhead. Rion yanked on the offending metal. He planted his feet, panting, and stepped back, pulling with every ounce of his strength. Rion summoned his magic next and gasped when blinding pain shot through his system.
This isn’t happening.
He was trapped again.
Caged again.
He was in a dark cell. There were shackles around his wrists. Arianna was nowhere in sight. Rion stopped pulling against the chains. He scanned the area. Arianna. Gods above, where was Arianna?
Rion spun as much as he could manage, straining against the bindings.
Nothing. He was alone.
Had—had he always been alone? Were the last few weeks nothing but an illusion? Was Kaylee still here? Was his mother even—
Rion planted his feet and yanked against the chains again. Metal bit into his wrists, but he ignored the sharp pain. He frantically pulled again and again and again. The skin around one wrist broke. Red rolled down his forearm.
This wasn’t real.
This wasn’t real.
His breath came out in short gasps. Why couldn’t he breathe? Pádraigín’s magic. Niall. Vairik. They were here. They’d done this to him again. No, not again, he’d never gone back to Nàdair. He wasn’t anywhere near Brónach. He was on the other side of the continent, trapped in a dungeon, never to escape from the male hell-bent on revenge.
Rion yanked on the chains again. Something in one arm cracked. Pain exploded down the limb. Rion growled in response. He didn’t care. He’d break every damned bone in his body before he allowed himself to be caged again. Let them—the door in front of him swung open and a sliver of flickering light peeked through the crack. Rion braced himself, ready to endure Niall’s torment all over again.
