Page 19 of Ruin of Revenants

Soothed by its warmth and the rumbling in its belly, I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

Isoria

In the red light of dusk, I trod carefully through Archer’s library, my heart fluttering in my throat. I wasn’t eager to encounter the crown prince again, but I couldn’t stand sitting idly in my rooms a second longer. I’d already slept almost an entire day away recovering from last night’s events. Now, I was desperate for a taste of sunlight, and the window in my room faced the wrong direction.

Walking out the door and wandering through the castle wasn’t an option, not with the threat of potentially encountering King Wystan in the halls, so I’d dared to venture through Archer’s quarters until I’d found the library.

Maybe there would be a book about magic and its loss here, something else that had afflicted other fae at some point in history. Or perhaps Archer had learned about blood bonds in a book he kept here.

I threw open the window on the far wall, the final rays of dusk tracing the book spines lined up on the nearest shelves. Balmy air flooded inside, the night promising to be as heavy with humidity as the day. I ached with the longing to be back in the sky, chasing that sunset. Ascending high enough for the city that terrorized my people and me to shrink into something small and less fearsome, for me to put miles between Prince Archer and myself. I could practically taste the high of freedom on my tongue, and it was sweet.

But perhaps that was nothing but a dream.

Why had the gods put a blood bond on us, the two who had been prophesied to destroy one another? It didn’t make sense. We couldn’t fulfill the prophesies if we couldn’t harm each other.

Had a god heard the future that Maris had foretold and decided to intervene?

“Normally, I’d love to see a female wearing nothing but my shirt standing in my quarters.” I was so distracted that I stiffened at the sound of Archer’s drawling voice.

I flung a glower at him over my shoulder while simultaneously tugging at the hem of his shirt, suddenly wishing it hung further than mid-thigh.

“But on you…” Archer’s words trailed off and he swallowed, flicking his gaze away to stare daggers at the armchair where his cat lay sound asleep in a perfect crescent, as if by being in the same room as me, the creature had betrayed him. “Why is Onyx with you? He hates strangers.”

Turning away from the window and striding past the writing desk and rows of bookcases, I stopped a few feet away from where he lingered in the doorway. “If you don’t want your enemies walking around in your clothes, maybe don’t take them as prisoners to your chambers.” I shifted on my bare feet, settling a hand on one hip and shooting him a mockery of a smile.

Archer scoffed. “I’m as much a prisoner in this bond as you.”

The admission sent a pang through me. It rang true, warning me that Archer had no reason to lie about the bond forcing us to stay in close proximity. He didn’t want me trapped here with him. I could feel the fragile hope I’d harbored last night beginning to crack, sending an echoing emptiness through me. What will I do if I can’t get back home? If I can’t help Mama and the others?

Trying to conceal the ache, I forced my expression into a glower and retorted, “Yet you brought me to your castle.”

Archer laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “Were you going to bring me home to your fire demon friends?”

I looked away. Obviously, that hadn’t been an option, but that didn’t mean I had to like being trapped here. “And yes, your cat cuddled and slept with me, after I enjoyed using your soap and resting in your bed while wearing your shirt.” I gave him another devious smirk. “How does it look on me?”

Archer’s scowl deepened as he pushed off the entryway and stepped closer. “Like I’m going to rip it off you.” He paused, horror crossing his face before he scowled. “Because it’s mine, and I can’t stand seeing you touch a single thing that’s mine,” he amended. “You’re disgusting. A fire demon. A killer. A—”

“A healer who saved your life.”

Once again, Archer’s mocking smile was back. “I know your kind’s tricks. I’ve studied plenty about how you lure your prey with false kindness, healing them to lull them into letting down their guard.”

I gaped. “That’s madness. Why would we waste our magic on something like that? Healing is sacred.” My voice wobbled. “Until your father decided we were unwelcome, we offered healing unlike anything any other fae in Emberglade can provide.”

Archer’s smile only grew, like I’d confessed something. “Speaking of waste, we have places to be and little time.” Crossing the room to close the window to the heat, he turned back to me. “Sit down.” He nodded to an armchair while he settled in the chair before his writing desk, leaning back and propping his boots on its surface.

I sat, noticing for the first time the stacks of books with titles about shifters and phoenixes resting in piles alongside an open journal with careful handwriting. My chest tightened. How long had he been researching my kind? How much had Maris the oracle shared with him?

Did he suspect I was the one foreseen to destroy his family, that I was his fated enemy? Was that what he wanted to question me about? Or the location of my kind?

The tightening in my chest increased until it felt like a fist was gripping my lungs, stifling my airflow.

“Why were you wandering the temple graveyard last night?” he asked, watching me carefully.

“I was hoping to visit the temple and consult with Solea.”

He tapped his pen on the desktop thoughtfully. “And then raise the dead within the graveyard?”