I scanned the arches opposite the window, trying to work out what to do next. Row after row of books, in one language after the next.
I turned again, listening to the Meriadoc music.
My gaze landed on an archway so dark I hadn’t noticed it before—a black hole in the stacks of books. The only thing escaping its shadows was the music of the athame, pounding in time to my own heartbeat. It entranced me.
Euphoria spilled through me as I took another step forward, and the music skittered over my skin.
But my breath caught in my throat when he stepped from the shadows, his dusky eyes gleaming.
It was the fae I’d met in Acre.
Now, I heard a different song. A low, distant drumbeat—one that went with fire and smoke, and the sweet tang of pomegranates.
Shadows swept behind his back like wings. He looked completely at ease with the knife-wielding intruder in his house.
“Aenor Dahut, daughter of Meriadoc.” He had the cruel beauty of a god, but the easy smile of a sensualist.
He burned like an evening star…
Blood slicked the knife where I gripped the hilt. “Are you the one who drowned Ys? Who killed Queen Malgven?”
His eyes lit up—that twilight indigo shot through with gold. “Oh yes, that was me.”
The rage I felt for him nearly blinded me. “Why? Why did you come after us?”
His gaze flicked to the knife in my hand. “Have you come to kill me?” He seemed to find this infinitely amusing. “I must say, it seems a little uncouth to show up for an assassination with someone else’s blood on your knife.”
I wanted to cut his wings off, but they were made of shadows. He had no interested in telling me why he’d drowned Ys. Maybe he didn’t have a good reason. Maybe he just liked hurting people for fun.
But, no. I was missing something, but I didn’t think I’d get the answers now.
If I hadn’t been drunk the day he’d arrived in Ys, maybe I could have stopped him. I was once the most powerful fae around.
I felt the weight of rocks on my chest. There it was. The dark truth. It was my fault that Ys sank. I could have stopped him, if only the dandelion wine hadn’t knocked me out.
Keep it together, Aenor. Think clearly.
“Killing you will have to wait,” I said in my calmest voice. “I’m just here for something that belongs to me.”
With my true power, I could have pulled the water from his body and left him a desiccated husk on the tile floor. I could have crushed him into the earth, food for worms.
Death spills from her…
“Something that belongs to you?” His amused tone had a vicious edge.
“The athame. Did you destroy Ys just to get it?”
A flicker of surprise lit up his eyes.
“I know about the athame,” I said. “And the fuath you’re controlling.”
A dark laugh from the Nameless One. “Aren’t you a clever one?”
His tone gave me pause. He seemed to be mocking me, and he made me think I’d missed the mark completely.
He closed his eyes, breathing in. “Aenor Dahut. You have heard what they say about you, I assume? The whore who sank her island.” Those vibrant eyes opened again, shocking in their brightness. “It’s a fantasy, of course. The men who tell the story want to imagine they could have had you. They could have possessed the beautiful princess who smells like sea-foam and flowering brambles. She was available for the taking, with her silk scarves and unquenchable appetites. What a tempting thought.”
His self-assuredness made me want to run away. He was completely relaxed.
“Why do you want to get into Nova Ys?” I asked.
“Nova Ys? They made a new one?” He sounded bored by the concept.
My mouth opened and closed. None of this was adding up, which meant I had no idea what to do next. I didn’t think my magic was powerful enough to really hurt him, and I didn’t understand what he wanted. “Can you tell me what you actually want?”
His eyes twinkled. His hair, his eyelashes and eyebrows, were dark as the shadows. “What do I want? You, Aenor. I have spent many hours dreaming of tormenting you. How delightful that you came right into my home. What should I do with you, now that I have you in my possession?”
His words were a cold blade in my heart.
Clearly I had to try to kill him. But I had some questions for him first. “Why have you dreamt of tormenting me? I don’t even know who you are. I’d never heard of you before you came to Ys. I’ve done nothing to you. I don’t even know your freaking name.”
For just a second, his beautiful smile faltered, nearly imperceptibly. Then it was back, charming as ever. He prowled even closer, and my pulse raced. “Is that right?”
The power of the athame tugged at my body, hungry for me.
This man—whoever he was—was my enemy, and I had to end this now.
I lunged, the movement fast enough to catch him off-guard. I swung for his neck with the blade. The dagger just barely caught him in the throat. Sadly, he managed to block it from going in deeply. He caught my wrist in his crushing grip.
He spun me around and twisted my arm behind my back until I was sure he was breaking it. His grip was pure steel, and he jerked my arm up behind my back. I screamed, the sound echoing off the stone.
Then, he leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “Sleep.”
My muscles went limp, and darkness pulled me under.
Chapter 34
I woke to find myself hanging in chains, my toes dangling in cold water. The steel of the manacles cut into my wrists, and my arms ached. My feet didn’t quite reach the ground.
The Nameless One stood in the shadow before me, his eyes burning with the glow of the evening star. Torchlight sculpted his perfect face.
No longer in the luxurious, book-lined apartment from before, I seemed to be in a rocky cave. It smelled of death in here—fire and charred flesh. A bit of sulfur. Water ran in a small stream beneath me, wetting my toes. There was hardly anything down here, except a slab of rock to my right. Maybe it was the sound of that rhythmic drumming, but the slab reminded me of a sacrificial altar.
I glanced behind me, and a pit opened in my stomach. Sharp iron spikes jutted from the rock, so close they were grazing my body. All he had to do was kick me hard in the chest, and the spikes would pierce my heart and lungs.
“What do you want?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
My throat was dry and hot as desert sand. The sound of water beneath my feet was its own sort of torture. Gods, I wanted water. I wanted to fall on my knees and lap it up like a cat.
I glanced at the altar once more. A piece of fruit lay on it. I licked my dry lips, hungry for it. Behind the altar, dim sunlight glowed over a set of stone stairs.
I looked down at myself.
I still wore the same clothes, though oddly, he’d washed the blood off me. The shorts and shirt I was wearing were wet now and smelled faintly of soap. He’d stripped the dagger off me, and the sheath off my leg.
“Why did you wash the blood off me?” I asked.
His pupils widened for a split second, and he took a step closer. “Do you think I want animal blood all over my nice rock dungeon?”
Animal? Jerk. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be civilized.”