Inside the stone circle, those bushes of pale blue roses beckoned. Mireille could’ve been mistaken, but it almost seemed as though the blooms had grown larger since she’d last seen them.
“So,” Ronin whispered, “what, exactly, are we looking for?”
“There was dirt caked around Otto’s fingernails during our meeting this morning.” Mireille swept her gaze down several of the leafy pathways. “Let’s split up and look around. See if there are any areas where the soil looks recently disturbed.”
Ronin nodded, taking one of the pathways to the left as Mireille stalked down one to the right.
Despite her anxiety, despite her world-rocking conversation with Otto this morning, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the specimens around her, had to stop herself from abandoning this task and going on a foraging adventure through the impressive collection.
She passed a tufted row of dienswort, small red blooms against a sea of deep green, and her fingers itched to pluck up the flowers. Dienswort was difficult to come by, and expensive. She stepped away from the bounty with a mournful sigh, then rounded a corner and skidded to a halt.
Towering nearly all the way to the domed ceiling was a tree that Mireille had read about, but had never seen in real life. And if the legends were true,no onehad seen one in centuries. A thick, stark white trunk speared up into a canopy of foliage in a vivid spectrum, every color in the rainbow and all the hues in between. Gauzy green moss draped from the branches, and Mireille couldn’t help but gawk.
Resurrection trees once covered the plains in the Desolation. Legend stated that their leaves had a myriad of magical uses. Including the ability pull a Fae back from the brink of True Death. But they’d all been decimated during the war, destroyed by the humans in retaliation against the Fae and their magic. She wondered how Otto had managed to get his hands on one, much less kept it alive. They were very temperamental, especially outside their native climate.
She was so awestruck, she almost didn’t notice the dirt dusted across the pathway.
“Ronin!” she called out. He must have been close, because he was beside her in an instant. “Look.” She pointed to the trail.
He cocked an eyebrow and they both stepped over the low fence to examine the tree.
Ronin ran his fingers through the leaves as Mireille crouched, circling the trunk. At the base, right at the edge of the soil, was a small knot. Smoother and shinier than a knot should be. As if fingers had often rubbed across it. She pressed against it, and the ground beneath them lowered, a slow descent accompanied by a waterfall of soil.
The platform hit the ground with an echoing boom, and as soon as they stepped off, it rose again, closing above and leaving them in a darkened, white stone hallway.
Mireille grabbed Ronin’s hand and he intertwined their fingers.
To their left, faint blue light crept across the walls. To the right was nothing but solid stone. Ronin swiveled his head, sniffing the air. “I think the crypt is on the other side of this wall.”
They turned a corner, and Mireille gasped.
The white walls gave way to packed dirt, an underground cave containing a honeycomb of crevices carved into gargantuan, gnarled white roots. Each crevice, about a hundred in total, held a piece of glowing anastasium. The stones pulsed, brightening and dimming. As if they were breathing.
Ronin bent down before a crevice to examine a stone. “Are these?—”
“They’re souls,” said a low female voice behind them.
Mireille whirled to find Layla Fetar standing in the entrance to the chamber.
Before Layla even had a chance to continue, Ronin rushed the tiny female, wrapping his hand around her throat and slamming her against the dirt wall.
“What thefuckdo you want?” he snarled.
Layla clawed at his hands, face purpling, choking down sips of air.
“Ronin,” Mireille muttered a warning.
“Not what you think,” Layla wheezed.
“Try me.” Ronin leaned in closer and extended his fangs. His claws as well, the thickest slicing into Layla’s flesh and drawing a line of blood.
Layla’s foot shot out, connecting with Ronin’s groin in a well-aimed, forceful blow.
He doubled over, retching, and Layla dropped to the floor, landing gracefully on her feet. She whipped out a throwing knife and pointed the tip at Ronin’s eye.
Mireille bounded between them. “Whatdoyou want? Other than to damage goods I had plans for later?”
Layla breathed heavily as she tried to recover from Ronin’s attack. “Drop the act. I know you two aren’t really an item.”
