Page 27 of Vanquished Gods

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Page 27 of Vanquished Gods

Freedom—what would that taste like? It would be like Veilcross, only throughout the entire kingdom.

The line of guards standing before the ruined door looked thinner now, and none of them were likely to see us through the shadows. Sion’s magic whispered over me, a velvet stroke against my skin. Darkness muted the silver moonlight, subtly enough that the guards were unlikely to notice it, but still darkening the landscape so that we could safely move through. Only the fire burned—an eerie, glowing beacon to draw the soldiers’ attention away from us.

Coiling around me, Sion’s shadows twisted and danced, hiding us just a little more in the dark.

We hurried across the grassy earth to the eastern gate. At least, I thought we did. One of the problems with Sion’s shadow magic was that it also made it hard formeto see very clearly. It wasn’t a total blackout, but everything had gone dim.

“Can you see?” I asked.

“Of course I can fucking see,” he whispered.

In the next moment, I felt his hand in mine, strong and calloused. As we approached the castle, I could see tiny dots of light, the torches that lined the soaring outer walls. Faintly, I could make out the silhouettes of six guards standing vigil outside the Invictus Gate, their outlines bathed in the light of the torches. A thin tendril of fear wended its way through my chest.

The eastern wing loomed high above us, the windows like narrow orange dots from within the shadows. My breath shallowed.

When Sion turned to look at me, his eyes held an otherworldly gleam that sent a chill rippling over my skin. “I’m going to get rid of them,” he whispered. “You see the door?”

“I think so.”

“Follow inside straight after me once the guards are down.”

He released my hand, and his form blurred as he darted forward, melding with the night. His attack left no time for the guards to react, and his shadows receded, giving me a clearer view.

Within moments, the guards fell soundlessly, crumpling to the ground like severed marionettes. The scent of blood filled the air, coating my tongue.

My pulse pounded hard. My fingers twitched, ready to pull one of my knives at any moment.

I rushed in behind him, pushing through the door.

The moment I was inside, I carefully shut the door behind me.

I peered down a long hall, where torches cast wavering light over stones and an ornate rug. Already, Sion had disappeared into the castle, on his mission to Verica’s room. It was unnerving how quickly the man could simply vanish.

I looked down at my thin gown and smoothed out the material. I relaxed my shoulders and started to walk with the swaying hips and carefree smile that Sion had relentlessly made me practice. If anyone ran into me, they’d see Verica, a woman who laughed easily and made every double entendre she could think of.

But despite my warm expression, internally, fear iced my chest like hoarfrost. I had no idea how someone like Verica could bounce around, grinning at people, when she knew what went on in this castle of horrors.

The place was a maze of twists and turns, and Sion’s obsessive insistence on memorizing maps was starting to make sense to me. Nothing went in straight lines in there, and in the dim light, navigating it in real life, it all seemed much more confusing than it had on the maps.

Now, I could smell the scent of bread baking, which meant I was getting close to the kitchen, and I turned into the vast room. In there, the warm glow of the hearth and the rich aroma of roasting meat fully enveloped me. At the far end of the kitchen, a boy was turning a spit with a roasting pig by the fire.

With my head down, I slipped into the bustling chaos, but I didn’t go unnoticed for long.

A plump woman, spattered in flour, glanced up at me from the dough she was kneading. “Verica, darling! I just got here. I thought I might have missed you. How’re you feeling?”

“Right as rain. Tell you what, it’s the weather today, it was bloody gorgeous. I might have even seen a rainbow. And the meadowlarks were having a go at it on a tree branch.” Too much. Too much. “Well, got to get on, don’t I? Pater needs his tea.”

I racked my brain to remember all the millions of details I’d memorized. There had been so many, for every possible situation. The herbs, the metal pitcher and the ornate cups by the side. I grabbed what I needed and filled the pitcher with water, setting it on the stove to boil.

“Verica.” The cook leaned in closer to me. “Do you remember what we were talking about earlier?” Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t believe it.”

I smiled at her. “Oh, yeah, gosh, that was a laugh. My word!”

She scowled at me. “A laugh?”

“Yeah, no, I mean…it was unexpected. Terrible.”

“I’d say so, yeah. No one expects to die of the plague at twenty. And just the way she looked, you know, with the purple skin, and the blood pouring out her mouth…”




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