Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(33)
Author: Alexandra Bracken
“Hear that, boys?” he called to the others. “We’re going to the fair isle.”
The shock that seized us by the throats only lasted an instant. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Cabell dove for the shed, where all our things waited, only to be brought up short by one of the men who’d taken him prisoner.
“We meet again,” the Hollower gloated. “Thought you’d slipped the noose, did you?”
Cabell spat in his face. I didn’t see the punch flying toward the side of my head until it had already landed, cracking my world in two and sending me to the wet ground.
“Hey!” Cabell tried to lunge for whoever had hit me. I sat there, momentarily dazed. Neve wrapped an arm around me and helped me to my feet. I couldn’t see Emrys’s face, only that he had looked my way. Everything around me was a blur.
“What are you doing here?” There was an edge of shock to Septimus’s voice, and something else. If I hadn’t just suffered a head wound, I would have said it was fear. “How . . . is it possible?”
As the dark spots faded from my vision, I finally saw what had caught his attention. Or rather, who.
“I came to find the ring,” Emrys told him. “Thank the gods you’re here, though. They caught me searching the ruins of Tintagel and I’ve been trying to get away ever since.”
Neve gasped in outrage. I might have taken a swing at Emrys, but he grabbed me first, holding me firmly in place by the back of my neck. The more I struggled, the more Hollowers gathered around us to help him. I forced myself to stop before someone worse took over.
“But your father—” Septimus began, still struggling to piece together a whole thought.
“I want to surprise him,” Emrys said. “And return with the ring. Haven’t you ever tried to impress your old man, Yarrow?”
“You need to go home,” Septimus said. “One of my men will take you. Your father must be worried sick.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Emrys said, releasing my neck with one last warning squeeze before he strode out in front of us. His voice was light and his smile winning. “You need me to tell you how to get to Avalon, and we need them to track down Lark for us.”
“Emrys . . . ,” the other man said, shaking his head.
“I’m coming with you.” Emrys’s smile was strained. “Please. It’s my last chance to do something like this.”
Septimus sighed. “All right. Stay close to me through this, hear me? I’d rather not be murdered by your father.”
“Of course,” Emrys said.
His last chance to do something like this? Why? Were they on the verge of foisting him onto some fancy ivy-laden college? Maybe he took the job from Madrigal to prove he didn’t need a degree, but even that didn’t make sense.
“How will we travel to Avalon?” Septimus asked.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned Emrys. This was what we got for trusting him—I knew better, and still, I’d led him here. I’d given him our only clue to find Nash.
And he didn’t even have the decency to look at me as he said, “The Hag of the Mist.”
Neve hissed. “You’ll pay for this. I hope you enjoy the taste of eels, because they’re going to be pouring out of every orifice you have.”
Septimus swung toward her, as if just noticing her for the first time. Neve was taller than I was, but his size meant he could loom over us both, blocking out the sun like a second eclipse. “And who is this?”
I gritted my teeth, my pulse rising with fear. Some Hollowers saw sorceresses as a means to a treasure-laden end, believing they were like black widow spiders—only deadly when provoked. But many I’d encountered hated sorceresses with a startling vehemence, usually because a family member or mentor had been killed on the job by a well-placed curse.
If any of these Hollowers fell into the latter category, Neve might have to defend herself against their darkest fantasies of revenge.
As if in answer to my thoughts, Neve straightened, throwing her shoulders back as one hand crept toward her fanny pack. “I’m—”
“She’s from one of the small West Coast Hollower guilds,” Emrys said smoothly, not looking at either of us. “Neve. She has a way of tracking Nash once we get to Avalon.”
His lie put me on the back foot. The tension in my face eased as a question took shape out of my growing suspicion. What are you up to, Trust Fund?
Cabell fought against the hold the Hollowers had on him, and his struggle only intensified when he saw that Septimus’s men had taken our bags from the shed and added them to their collection of supplies.
“We should wait until the castle ruins close for the day,” Emrys said, briefly catching my gaze as he turned to face Septimus.
This time, his eyes held a message. Trust me.
I shook my head. Never.
Emrys Dye was playing a dangerous game—the only question was with whom.
Merlin’s Cave was smaller than I remembered it being; then again, the last time I’d stood here, I’d been smaller myself.
The cave itself was really a tunnel, one carved by ancient waves or some great beast burrowing into the mountainous dark rocks. To access it, you had to take a winding path down from the ruins above and enter through a small, rocky beach.
The sea held back its foamy fingers as we trudged across the sand and pebbles. The nearby waterfall was loud enough to drown out the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.
I stopped at the entrance of the cave, only for Septimus to shove me forward again. The damp air was heavy with the scent of brine and decay. Condensation turned everything slick, making it difficult to continue when the sandy beach turned to a field of jagged scree. The walls were sharp and forbidding around us, each its own warning that this was not a place for mortals.
Several Hollowers turned on their flashlights, guiding the way in when the new moon failed to.
Nash used to say that humans were nothing more than sparks falling into the fire of time, but I was no spark, and there was no heat here. Just a whispering chill, its cold lips moving against my skin, speaking unknowable secrets.
“Here,” Septimus said once we reached the midpoint between the two ends of the cave. “This will do.”