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Chapter 19

RORY

Quill’s kindred depart my room an hour after they arrive under the pretense that I should spend some time alone with my new immortal body.

I didn’t know how to tell them I’d rather not be left alone with my thoughts.

Before I became a vampire, my thoughts would drift to my impending doom. Now, I can’t stop wondering what happened after Quill stole me away. Where is Vivian now that she’s fully ascended and has everything she ever wanted? And Cress? Did she and her child make it to Nightfell? Did Father survive the slaughter? The image of King Joal’s severed head spurs forward in my mind…

Adelphi must be in utter chaos.

A tiny, nearly minuscule part of me delights in that knowledge.

Thinking a bath will calm me, I venture into the bathing chamber—a tepidarium similar to the one on the main floor—with sleek limestone tile and steaming water glistening with oils. Red and black roses bob and float above the water’s surface as I remove my towel and step in, surrendering into the heat.

It’s divine.

I take my time scrubbing the salt water from my skin, careful of my scars, and rinse the sand from my hair. Soap pools around me, and as soon as I’m satisfied, I climb from the bath and wrap myself in the plush robe someone left draped across the back of a chair.

Back in my bedroom, I rifle through the bountiful wardrobe and select a dainty pair of lace underthings and a fetching gown the color of starlight. I smile to myself as I dress. The shade is an exact match to Quill’s eyes.

Speaking of Quill, I’m sure he’ll have an update on what’s happened in Adelphi. Where is he, anyway? Far too much time has passed since I last saw him, since I last felt him inside my mind. Growing restless, I slip from my suite and down the hall toward where Carver said Quill’s personal library is housed.

I pause by one of the arched windows overlooking the beach. The day is bright with a swath of pale blue sky as waves build and crash onto the shore. I wish with everything in me that Cress could be here with me.

From this hallway, I have a clear view of the Shore of the Damned and its lone visitor—Carver, kneeling in front of the same red flowers we passed by earlier.

My quiet chest aches for him. It isn’t a real ache, but the kind of hurt that empathizes with another’s loss. Whoever chose their death left behind someone who still cares immensely for them. The same way I left behind Vivvy. But there’s no way she aches for me, no way she cares for me.

I’m your sister.

No, you’re my sacrifice.

Right. I clear my throat against the persistent burning and continue down the hallway, granting Carver time to mourn without prying eyes. My improved vampire hearing picks up on the sound of Quill’s deep and sensual voice, and I follow it until I stumble upon a woven tapestry depicting the night sky over a crescent-shaped island. The Shore of the Damned, perhaps? Light glows from beneath, and my brow furrows as I draw back the tapestry to find a door.

Curious. A hidden chamber. I carefully twist the glittering stone handle. The door swings open on quite hinges to reveal a darkened room, save for the light pouring from a gilded mirror. In front of said mirror, Quill looms with his back to me, his posture rigid.

“Quill?” I say his name softly. He doesn’t so much as stir. On silent feet, I creep up beside him and⁠—

Recoil. His eyes are blown wide open and entirely black, like two endless orbs of nothing. No whites to be seen, no indigo to be found. And his stillness. It’s… it’s the stillness of a corpse.

“Quill,” I say again, louder this time.

Nothing. I shake his arm. Still nothing.

I glance at the mirror, searching for an answer as to what in the hell is going on, but there’s only that unearthly glow emanating from it.

Whatever’s happening here… I don’t think I’m meant to see it. Why else hide the room behind a tapestry?

Slowly so as to not disturb anything, I spin and venture back the way I came. On my way out, I spot a low table tucked into the corner between two chairs with a piece of parchment atop it. Maybe it could shed some light on what’s going on here? I tiptoe over and scan the page:

Quill,

I’m not without worry that you wish to Challenge Mihal, but as promised, here are the unspoken rules I’ve learned throughout my time as siren supreme.

Challenging a supreme is a rare and difficult task. You must have evidence of the supreme’s corruption or evidence they are unfit to rule their kind. This isn’t the hard part, considering Mihal is terror given flesh. The hard part is what comes next.

Now I’m even more confused.