Page 25 of The Reaping Rose

The male tosses the strands in my face, brushing my arm with the backs of his knuckles. “The king will reward me greatly for you. He promised wealth to anyone who uncovered a gem on Alyssium.”

A gem on Alyssium? There’s nothing here but snow and death. What could the king possibly want from this horrible island?

“I’m just a girl.”

A wicked gleam shines in the male’s eyes. “Just a girl?”

His friend has been gone for a while now. The light in the cave has changed. We’re nearing sunset. The male circles me slowly, openly viewing me stretched by the obsidian chains on the stone. He pauses at my feet, caressing my ankles.

“We’ll see about that.”

A scream rips from my throat, piercing the bubble that is my memory and shattering it like glass around me. The cave falls in shards at my feet until I’m back in the prison.

Back in the chamber of doors. Two open. One closed.

I’m back in this hellscape that is far from done with me.

My fingers shake as I reach for the final handle, knowing there is no turning back now. Tears burn a hot path down my cheeks, and I don’t know what I’m about to face. But when the door swings open, I’m not pulled somewhere else. Unlike the last two rooms, this is not a memory. It’s not a vision at all.

It’s a cell.

There are three circles of runes. The first, closest to me, is like Wilder’s. But then there’s another, overlapping it in waves. The third circle is sharp, like a star with a hundred points.

And at the center is a woman no older than me in appearance. Her silver eyes are like peering into a mirror. Her long white hair is stick straight and perfectly still at her shoulders, as pale as her porcelain skin. And on her cheeks are flecks of sparkling freckles.

The corner of her mouth lifts as her gaze sets on me. “My daughter. You’ve finally returned for me.”

Chapter 9

Elorie

My mother’s face tilts, confusion pinching her eyebrows as my knees give out at the edge of the runes.

I’m a raw nerve. Every inch of my flesh prickles as if at any moment I’ll begin fraying apart. The echoes of my memories continue to scream between my ears. Endless thoughts and emotions run rampant as her silver eyes meet mine.

And then, a strange peace flushes through me. Pieces once torn apart come back together. I sink back on my heels, shoulders easing as I face my mother.

Her head tilts to the other side, shifting her strands over her shoulders.

“Your hair is white.” Why are those the first words from my mouth? Insignificant, but it’s the first thing to come to mind.

Her gaze falls to my hair. A few braids are sprinkled through the tangled strands, and I know I must be a mess. But she doesn’t say as much even if she thinks it. My fingers twine with the blue, but she says nothing.

“I just assumed it would be blue,” I say, dropping the lock of hair and wringing my fingers together.

“What’s your name?” she asks, assessing me.

Her voice is strangely familiar. Like a song I’ve heard a hundred times. But no matter how many times I’ve heard that song, I don’t know the words.

“Elorie Vale,” I answer, not taking my eyes off her. “What’s yours?”

Her gaze drifts over my shoulder. “It’s been centuries since I’ve answered that question.”

“My father didn’t ask?”

“He did.” A cool airiness sends her voice floating as if it were its very own presence. “You can call me Idunn.”

“Idunn.” An unusual name.