Page 58 of A Kiss of Flame

‘They’ll kill him.’

‘Probably,’ he agreed. He didn’t sound sorry about that either, Wren thought. No love lost there at all. She didn’t blame him. They hurried on through the tangle of lanes.

At the back of a sheer wall the top of which could not be seen, Anselm dragged open a grate in the street. It was small and narrow and the smell that came out of it was eye-watering.

‘A sewer?’ Wren asked. He wrapped a scarf around his face and handed another to her. Olivier had his own and he scowled at the very thought of it, but didn’t say a word in protest.

‘Hold your breath. We’ll be out of it again in a few minutes.’

The scarf did next to nothing to help, and it was as dark as night down there. The shadows pressed close, sensing her fear and worry. They stroked against her skin and threaded through her hair, teasing her, laughing at her. Water sloshed around their boots, but Anselm didn’t pause, moving with a purpose, feeling his way forward.

When Wren hesitated, he reached back and threaded his fingers through hers to lead her onwards.

‘Don’t be scared,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got you.’

She squeezed his hand in gratitude, feeling the warmth in him, the light in him, and the shadows fell back to an almost manageable level. He was a Knight of the Aurum still. Her knight. The remnants of the Nox still followed her though, a host of shadows, scraps of a greater darkness, as if she was a lodestone for them. They wanted to help her, they sang. They would always be there when she needed them. She only had to ask.

Her hair curled against her neck, reaching far down past her shoulders now, growing and growing with the touch of the darkness all around her. It coiled around her scalp, tightening as they moved deeper into darkness. There was no shaking it off, as if her own fear and anxiety conjured it up.

‘Wren?’ Olivier asked softly. ‘Are you all right?’

This wasn’t good. But she didn’t have time to worry about herself. She needed to find Elodie and fast, before Sassone could do anything more to her. Wren didn’t want to waste a moment imagining what he might have done already.

‘I’m fine. Keep going,’ she told him as firmly as she could manage.

Anselm shifted a grate in the wall, which swung inwards, and they stepped into a dry passageway where the air wasn’t so foul. There was a dim light ahead and Wren could make out the walls at last. With that, she felt the shadows dogging her footsteps draw back a little. It felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief.

‘Not far,’ Anselm whispered, but he didn’t let her go either. She felt a pathetic sort of gratitude for that.

It was going to be all right, she assured herself. First she’d find Elodie, and then?—

They stepped out into dank cellars and then climbed a narrow staircase. There were lanterns here, lighting the way, and up ahead Wren saw a heavy door.

‘Olivier, watch the way out,’ Anselm said. They fell readily into a team. Olivier took position by the top of the stairs with a view over any approaches from the corridor and their way back out covered while Anselm approached the cell. The door wasn’t locked.

Anselm opened it slowly, as if a breeze moved it, just enough to see inside, and there was Elodie.

She was kneeling on the ground, chains weighing her down and a collar around her neck like some kind of brutally plain choker. Her eyes were closed tightly, tears leaking from the corners and streaking her cheeks. Every muscle was clenched in agony, but she didn’t make a sound.

‘Elodie?’ Wren whispered in horror.

Elodie lifted her head, tears streaming down her face as she tried to focus on the darkness beyond the door, on Wren.

‘No. You can’t be here. You have to go away.’

Then she slumped forward, her face a mask of pain, her eyes unseeing.

CHAPTER 31

FINN

Finn was preparing to leave, to just get back to the palace as quickly as possible and as far away from Ilanthian nobility and all their machinations as he could. In all honesty he couldn’t extricate himself from the embassy quickly enough. They had brought Leander back here in a stupor, Hestia healing him and cursing him at regular intervals, all the more whenever he looked like he might regain some kind of consciousness, and Finn could hardly blame her.

Leander had been willing to die to score a point. And to force Wren to reveal who and what she was. He still was. And then what? Was he so confident that Hestia would save him? Probably, Finn decided, because Hestia had charge of him and to lose him in Pelias of all places would put not only her life but that of her son on the line as well. But did Leander really think the Asterothians would let him return to Ilanthus in triumph with Wren after everything that had happened? Make her his bride or whatever he had planned for her? They’d kill her the moment her secret was revealed. Finn didn’t doubt that for an instant. The sooner the Ilanthians all left Pelias the better.

As if Finn didn’t already have a thousand things for which to never forgive his half-brother…

‘Thanks be to the divine you were there,’ said Hestia. She was still trembling, the energy which had filled Elodie having shaken her to the core. ‘I had no idea, I swear to you, Finn.’