Page 52 of The Half King
“But we don’t trust Father Padron.”
“We certainly don’t,” Kian agreed.
“So why not send the royal guard instead?”
Kian heaved a sigh. “Do you know how many men it would take to equal the power of one priest?” Before she could answer, he did: “Dozens—or more. And each guard requires provisions and rides a horse that requires provisions, and before you know it, we’re traveling with twelve wagons instead of one, and our journey will last until the end of time.”
Cerise hadn’t considered any of that.
“I don’t like it, either,” Kian told her. “But Padron is the strongest weapon in my arsenal. I would be a fool not to use him to my advantage.”
“But what about Nero?” Cerise whispered in her softest voice. “Whatever magic he has, he would never use it around Father Padron. The Order would stone him for sorcery.”
“Nero can use his magic when Padron isn’t looking. No one has to know.”
“What if he refuses to help us?”
“Then we won’t give him a choice,” Kian hissed. “We need the runes so we can find the Petros Blade.”
“What are we going to do, chain Nero to us?” she asked. “He knows these mountains. We don’t. He can slip away whenever he wants and leave us stranded.”
“You really do underestimate my high priest,” Kian said darkly.
His words plucked a note of dread inside her. She wondered if he was right.
Kian must have decided the discussion was over, because he mounted his horse and, without another word to anyone, rode off into the desert the same way they had come.
Daerick and Nero joined Cerise at the mouth of the cave. Nero crossed both arms over his massive chest, and for a long moment of silence, the three of them watched the king ride away. Then Nero swiveled his gaze to Cerise and told her, “We need to talk before we leave.”
She waited for him to go on.
“Alone,” Nero clarified, giving Daerick a pointed look.
“I have no secrets from Lord Calatris,” Cerise said. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to the both of us.”
Nero heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes to the cave ceiling. He then used a thumbnail to open a thin cut on his palm, and after that, several things happened at once. Nero pressed his bloodied palm to the cave wall while his other hand shot out and gripped Cerise’s wrist. She opened her mouth to object, but no sound left her lips. She seemed suspended in time, as though the world had stopped turning. Abruptly, she felt the sick sensation of falling. Then she closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she was standing in the middle of a dim cavern with Nero still gripping her wrist and Daerick nowhere to be found.
“What…” She jerked free of Nero’s grasp. “What did you do? Where is Lord Calatris? Bring him back at once!”
“Your friend hasn’t moved,” Nero told her, holding both palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “We have. I only want to talk to you in private. After we talk, I’ll return you to your friend. I give you my word.”
Cerise released a breath and peered all around her at the black slab walls, which were glossy from moisture leaching through the stone. Strangely, it was the moisture that provided the only light, the drops emitting a faint glow reminiscent of moon-flies. The air was cool and smelled metallic, like the charge before a storm, but it was a welcome relief from the desert heat. Distantly, she could hear Daerick shouting her name, but she couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from.
“Where are we?” she asked, her fear fading and giving way to wonder. “Lord Calatris is worried for me. I can hear him.”
“He won’t worry for long,” Nero told her. “Time passes slowly here. A moment for your friend out there is like an hour for us in the Below.”
“The Below,” she absently repeated as she took in her surroundings.
The cavern floor was carpeted in thick, lush mosses and silken grass, and if she looked closely at the ground, she could make out an occasional lavender blossom peeking out from between the grassy tufts. She bent down and plucked one of the flowers, admiring the way its petals seemed to glow from within. Now that her panic had receded, she could appreciate the cavern’s unusual beauty. She even detected the babble of gently falling water echoing from somewhere out of sight.
“What is this place?” she asked. “It looks like an underground oasis.”
“In a way, it is,” Nero said. “The blood of Shiera was spilled on this mountain. The ground absorbed her darkness and her light. Her wrathful side created the blight you see from above. And here below”—indicating the luminescent walls of the cavern—“is what grew from her merciful side.”
“Darkness and light,” Cerise murmured, gazing at the lavender blossom. She tucked the delicate flower in her pocket. It would make a perfect addition to her offering at the Blighted Shrine. “How does your magic allow you to come here?”
He chuckled without humor. “How are the stars born?”
