Dominick’s last message had said that aliato were in the Citadel. Sera gripped her raven pendant and slid it back and forth on its cord.

  An alliance. That could be the only reason both races would be communicating with the Council. But did her companions know? Alistair must have been traveling back and forth with information much longer than he’d admitted. They’d been apart enough that he could go without her noticing. Sera pursed her lips and glanced at Ophelia. Did the oracle know? Did Vasso?

  Around and around the shadows danced. She swore that out of the corner of her vision, she could see sprites among them, twirling with their wings flitting.

  “Come, sit, dear.” Ophelia motioned to the seat beside her.

  Sera obeyed and plopped down, still zipping her pendant back and forth. If the Council was willing to kill off an entire clan of goblins, what was to stop them from trying to eradicate other gentle dark ones, like the domovoi? And where was the goddess in this mess?

  Shadow had been the champion of the world. She was supposed to protect the dark ones, protect Eraphon herself.

  Shadow was locked away… waiting to be awoken.

  “The world feels a bit darker today, doesn’t it?” Ophelia said. The oracle brought a glass of water to her lips. The lines in her face seemed deeper.

  “I suppose so, yes.” Sera rubbed her temples.

  The far door swung open as Vasso strode to his place at the head of the table. His easy smile from earlier was gone, replaced by a jaw clenched tight and a constant rubbing of his brow. His black dinner jacket was unbuttoned, along with the top of his shirt. Reddened bags were under his eyes, as if he’d been sleeping.

  Yet no matter how many times she glanced at him, he didn’t look up.

  “Lord Vasso,” Ophelia said with a smile.

  “Ophelia,” he grunted back.

  Alistair filed in next. His hair was still damp, his steps rigid as he took the seat nearest Vasso, clearing his throat.

  Silence was thick in the air until the first course was served, and Ophelia popped open a bottle of wine.

  “You simply must try this, Lord Vasso. You, too, Alistair and Seraphina. I think you’ll all find it delightful.” She poured the wine, her blue robes draping elegantly across the table as she decanted it into the goblets.

  The deep red sloshing in the crystal reminded Sera of blood.

  “My dear?” Ophelia asked.

  “Not right now, thank you.” Sera swallowed, watching Vasso and Al under lowered lashes, trying to figure out if everyone in this room had been lying to her.

  They have.

  Sera winced at the tinks and scrapes of polite dining. Each clink grated as she tried to untie the knot of information Al had given her. She fully understood why Ophelia hated the chandeliers. The constant sway of light was making her agitated.

  “Do you need anything replenished in your rooms?” Vasso hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

  “I’m fine,” she said. Alistair continued to stare at her and emptied the wineglass in one go. Vasso drained his and tapped his fingers on the table.

  He was nervous…

  “Well, the conversation is delightful this evening,” Ophelia said. “Since no one else will speak, I will inform you of my intentions for the next few days before we are due to leave.” She took another sip of water. “I hid my prophecy grimoire a few years ago and plan on retrieving it. Seraphina, do you think you’d like to help me?”

  She was running out of time. The pressure in her chest increased with each beat of her heart. She needed a doorway. “Sure, I’ll help.”

  Alistair’s face slammed into his first course. Pink seafood bisque splattered all over the white tablecloth.

  “Al!” Sera leaped from her chair.

  As soon as his name was out of her mouth, Vasso slid to the side, knocked out cold on the floor.

  “Finally,” Ophelia said, rising from her place.

  “What happened to them?”

  “I thought you and I should have some time together.” The oracle raised her brow at Alistair and Vasso. “The men get in the way.”

  “You drugged them?”

  Gurgling bubbles splattered around Alistair’s mouth and nose.

  “A witch never tells. Come, Seraphina.”

  As frustrated as she was at the pair of them, she wasn’t sure drugging was the solution. Sera crossed the room, lifted Al’s head, placed it on the table so he wasn’t breathing in soup, and reluctantly followed Ophelia.

  Chapter forty-two

  Seraphina

  The carved dark hallways brought her to a part of the manor she’d never seen before. There was a slight incline to the tunnel, and the air smelled more like soil here.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get my grimoire. Didn’t you listen to me?” Ophelia said. Rounding a bend, they approached a doorway that Sera guessed must lead to the surface.

  “Right now?” As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

  Ophelia gave her an exasperated sigh. “You might also find what you’re looking for.”

  “The doorways?”

  The oracle didn’t respond; she just pushed open the wooden door, revealing what appeared to be a makeshift stable that had been created in the mouth of a cave. The aroma of hay and droppings overpowered the earthy scent of the tunnels. Wooden stalls separated the horses; two out of twenty were occupied.

  Ophelia stopped before a chestnut mare. “You take Ponic.” She pointed to the end stall.

  Sera approached the black horse Vasso had ridden when they’d first met. “You planned this.” Ponic’s nostrils flared at her raised hand, breathing in her scent.

  “Of course I planned this.” Ophelia pulled the mare from the stable, leading her outside. “Do you want your answers or not?”

  She did. More than anything. The insanity of the last few months had been exhausting. She wished she could go back to normal—be normal.

  You didn’t ask for normal. You asked for power, her magic whispered.

  “Oh shut up,” Sera said back.

  “What was that?” Ophelia called to her from outside the cave entrance.

  “Nothing!” Sera opened the stall door and approached the massive horse slowly. “All right, boy. Please don’t bite or kick me.” He snorted in what she hoped was more of a laugh and less of a promise.

  She led the stallion to the dirt path where Ophelia was sitting atop the mare against a twilight sky. Above the ironoak branches floated clouds in deep plums and dark blues, almost the color of the night sky. Sera hoisted her leg over Ponic’s broad back and settled in the saddle, her feet barely reaching the stirrups. He was massive, and she hadn’t ridden in a long time.

  Riding lessons were only for Daedeth or Legion members. It had been her mother’s placement that allowed her to learn as a child. Basics. Lavinia always wanted her daughters to learn the basics of everything. Sera supposed she should be grateful for that in this moment.

  Ponic instinctively walked to the mare’s side.

  “There are demons out here. The agbris. Are you sure we should go out there alone?” Sera asked.

  “The exact question I was about to ask myself…”

  Sera froze. Ophelia’s grin dropped to a straight line. A thick fog sprang forward, tendrils reaching for the horse’s reins.

  “How are you awake? I put enough belldon in that wine to put down an elken,” Ophelia said, carefully rearranging her robes in front of her.

  Vasso emerged from the shadows behind them. “You think simple alchemy could keep me out for long enough to steal my horse and escape my grounds?” There was a menacing tone to his voice and a rigidity to him like a cat ready to pounce.

  “We have things we must see to, my lord. You can either let us be or come along, but I will not have you keeping me from my grimoire.”

  “You are getting bold, witch.” Vasso stalked closer, his eyes glowing a brighter red as he neared Sera.

  Sera wished a hole would open beneath her and Ponic. Shadow, she’d take a hole big enough to swallow the continent right about now. Releasing Ponic’s reins, she let Vasso’s magic take them. “I’d like to say that I had nothing to do with this…”

  “Oh, hush, witchling,” Ophelia hissed.

  Moons, Ophelia had a death wish. Based on the violence promised in the demon lord’s gaze and the way he rubbed his temple, she was sure Vasso didn’t appreciate being drugged at his own table.

  Before Sera could dismount, Vasso rushed forward, kicked his foot into Ponic’s stirrup, and was behind her.

  She hadn’t been ready for his touch, the blazing heat of his chest at her back. Sera leaned forward, attempting to put some distance between them.

  “Saddle me another horse. I don’t need to ride with you.”

  Vasso looped his arm around her middle, pulling her tight to him. He was solid, and the power flowing off him surrounded her like a warm blanket. His thighs cradling hers, his scent awakening something eager. “You’re staying right here.”

  That warmth that had wrapped around her went straight to her core, then lower.

  “I’d prefer it.” Her voice was breathy. Not that she had meant it to be, but now that he had her in his arms…

  “Do not move.” His words hot on her ear, his grip flexing around her side. “I have only the two horses.”

  This was more than she had anticipated for the evening. After he’d left her alone in the darkness of the cave, Sera had thought herself daft for wanting to touch him. But now that a good portion of her was, she didn’t know what to do with the sensation. Her magic was… calm. It always seemed to be when she was around him. And that burning tug deep in her chest had gone slack.

  “Are we ready, then?” Ophelia looked mighty pleased with herself.

  Vasso let out a frustrated sigh that tickled her hair. She turned around to glance at the lord, who continued to rub his brow.

  “Aha!” Ophelia’s face cracked into smile lines and crow’s feet. “I knew the belldon was still affecting you.” She preened, then gave her mare a small kick and took off.

  “Hold the reins.” His hand brushed hers as she took them. Vasso let go of her middle, and she instantly missed his touch. Foolish, foolish witch. Ponic picked up to a trot after Ophelia and her mare. “I don’t think I need to explain the dangers in these woods for you, do I?”

  “Ophelia was granting me answers. Ones that I had asked you for, by the way.”

  “Ah, so you’re stubborn and reckless. Good to know.”

  Ponic’s trotting set them in a steady movement that was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. “This wasn’t my idea!”

  Vasso ripped the buttons from his cuffs and forcibly rolled his sleeves above his elbows. “You are on this horse.” He pulled her flush to him again. “Therefore, you are just as guilty as she.”

  “You can be such an ass, you know that.”

  Vasso leaned over, and the curve of his cheek met hers. “I am so much more than a piece of ass, Subdina.”

  Sera reared back her elbow with the intention of bruising at least one of his ribs, but before she could do any damage, Vasso kicked Ponic into a full gallop.

  “Oh no, no no no…” Sera lurched forward, gripping the saddle horn for dear life. Dying today would be unfortunate, more so if she was kicked off a horse rather than, say, slashed to death by a demonic creature.

  “I’ve got you.” Vasso’s voice was low, his arm steady around her waist.

  “A minute ago, you wanted to kill me.”

  His chuckle hummed through her. “As I told you before, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the day you walked into my woods.”

  Branches and trees rushed past at a dizzying speed. In an even worse move, she glanced down at the ground, watching Ponic’s hooves beat the dirt path into submission.

  “I won’t let harm come to you, Seraphina.”

  “I think I’m okay right here,” she yelled back to him. Her mouth flooded with saliva, and she choked down the little bit of dinner she had eaten.

  A powerful arm slithered up between her breasts and gripped the curve of her shoulder and neck. With one powerful jolt, she was upright again.

  “I said, I’ve got you.”

  The strength of his arm across her body had her gasping. The way he clung to her as if she were something precious sprouted a dangerous feeling in her chest. They did not belong. Despite their magic or the unspoken understanding between them, this would never… could never…

  Subdina, her magic said in answer. If she hadn’t practically been sitting in Vasso’s lap, she would have demanded that voice tell her what it meant. Clearly, Vasso and their magic were in some sort of alliance that she knew nothing about, and Sera was getting sick of it.

  Ponic leaped over a fallen branch. She screamed and clamped her hands around Vasso’s forearm. He pulled her tighter to him, settling her head against his chest, just below his collarbone. The muscle beneath flexed as he gripped the reins, steering the beast below them nimbly through the trees.

  “If your nails weren’t sinking into my arm, I’d guess that you rather enjoyed this.”

  “Nothing like being held hostage to really put a witch at ease.”

  Vasso barked a laugh, and she couldn’t help the corners of her mouth tilting upward.

  He stroked his thumb against the hollow of her throat. She knew, deep in her bones, that he was only trying to comfort her, but… every swipe of the pad of his thumb against her skin was another hitch in her breath.

  Another shiver down her spine.

  Another pulse at the apex of her thighs.

  When was the last time she’d been caressed? Shadow, when was the last time she’d lain naked against a man, letting him trail fingers over her goosefleshed skin? She and Alistair had kissed, which had turned into burns covering his lips, but before that… it had been a long time.

  Letting out a silent sigh, Sera closed her eyes and just… felt.

  Her magic danced within her, and she wondered if that was why Vasso was so warm against her back. Was his magic flitting in the same way? Did it hum in tune to a song she didn’t know? She wanted to know it. Wanted his fingers to trail lower. Wanted her heart to beat faster.

  After a few moments, the stiffness in Vasso’s shoulder softened, and he stopped his thumb but didn’t raise his hand from the bow of her neck.

  They’d finally caught up to Ophelia, who was racing at reckless speed. Her blue robes whipped behind her like a flag on one of the human ships that sailed around the Citadel’s peninsula.

  With each passing second, the forest grew darker. Ophelia threw a mage light into the air, illuminating the path between the trees.

  They had headed west when they left Vasso’s manor. It was hard for her to determine how far they’d traveled without her map; she would have to estimate it, if a doorway was truly there.

  Ophelia slowed, turning at a stone marker. Above them, the three moons of Eraphon were cresting the trees, drenching the branches in a pale radiance.

  “We’re here,” Ophelia said with a grin. Her blond-white hair was wild about her, but the blue of her eyes almost glowed in the dark.

  Vasso dismounted, leaving Sera to shudder at the absence of his warmth.

  “I can get down on my own.” She swatted his hands away.

  “Stubborn.” He shrugged and left her to her own devices.

  Sera swung her leg over Ponic’s rump, miscalculating the clearance she needed, and the back of her knee caught the edge of the saddle. Somehow, she saved herself from landing on her ass in the dirt. Thankfully, Vasso wasn’t watching.

  “Is this…”

  “A pile of rocks that used to be a castle? Yes.” Vasso crossed his arms.

  Ophelia was already far in the ruins. The dim glow of the light above her stood out like a beacon. At least she wouldn’t be lost easily.

  “We’re on the border of the Emerald Glade, aren’t we?”

  He raised a brow at her. “We’re close. You’re informed for a Solarni witch. At least more than I’d expected.”

  “Ophelia was once a Solarni witch. Are you calling her dim?”

  Vasso put his hands on his hips and gave her an incredulous look. She decided to put her attention elsewhere.

  Ancient stone slabs emerged from the ground, and on them the rough shape of a building. Sera recognized where the round turrets once were. Following the crumbling stone walls, she could make out where the gate had been. Divots from centuries of wagon wheels that led into the dilapidated castle were now filled with soft grass.

  Sera turned to Vasso and halted.

  The moons’ rays washed over him. It looked like he’d been born from their essence. As if the largest one, Nubenia, had floated him down on one of her moonbeams as a gift to Eraphon. Vasso’s gaze met hers, and he smirked. “Like what you see?”

  “You’re just… so pale.”

  Vasso scoffed.

  “Are those rock guardians?”

  Erected at each corner, bodies of giant beasts with scales and claws wrapped the wall in stone limbs. Most of their vicious heads had crumbled away as the rest of the castle had. But Sera remembered seeing their snarling reptilian faces in tomes throughout the archives.

  The rock guardians alone dated this castle back five thousand years. Possibly older.

  “Aah, the famed beasts of Shadow. They say when the goddess awakens, the guardians will come back to life.” He placed his hands in his pockets, taking the stone beasts in.

  “That’s ridiculous. Nothing could live inside stone.”

  Vasso shrugged, unbothered by the looming presence of the castle. “If I had to guess,” he started in his mocking tone, “I bet your Citadel’s libraries are probably lacking in the ancient lore of our peoples. Not only about the war, but of the traditions themselves. You probably don’t even know what Shadow’s gates look like.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve seen them from afar. They are connected to Gehenna, after all.”

  “Could you—I mean, do you have a painting of them? Back in your manor?” To see the gates of the afterlife would be a dream. He was right: They had no renditions of the gates listed in the archives. At least from what Sera could gather.