Page 45 of Ruin of Revenants

“I wouldn’t want the prince’s betrothed tripping in the dark and falling down a flight of stairs.” Dell said it like a jest, but my skin prickled as if he were making an oblique threat. I didn’t trust him for a moment.

“What took you away from the feast?” I asked conversationally as we strode down the first flight of stairs together, his flickering candle guiding us. “Do you not enjoy partying the night away?”

Dell smirked. “Sometimes I prefer solitude and taking my leave early. Perhaps like you,” he added. “The quiet of the library at this time is a little more enjoyable. I like finding something to read before bed.” He glanced my way. “Does your prince know you went exploring?”

My stomach clenched at his insinuation that Archer didn’t know where I was. “He does,” I said lightly. “He preferred to drink in his rooms, and I told him I’d join him a little later.”

We walked through the empty library, our footsteps echoing as quiet settled between us. “Are you well acquainted with my betrothed?” I asked, trying to break the tension and learn more about this male.

“Oh, not well-acquainted, but I’ve always greatly looked up to him. My father is an advisor to King Wystan, a prominent member on the council, and it is my dear hope that one day I will perform the same duties for Prince Archer. I admire his efforts for the kingdom, especially his dedication to finding and executing all of the phoenix shifter threats.”

I kept my smile firmly in place, acting as if his words hadn’t struck their intended nerve. We’d reached the doorway and the well-lit hallway beyond, so I turned to him. “Thank you for the escort. I’ll be happy to return to Prince Archer myself now that I have plenty of light and His Majesty’s guards throughout the castle. I’m sure you would like to return to the festivities and celebrate Prince Archer’s most recent success, eliminating one of the terrifying phoenixes. Or, if you’re too tired as you said, finish your mission of selecting a book since I interrupted that.”

Dell’s pale eyes were unreadable as he scanned my face. “Hmm. I suppose so.”

“I’ll be sure to share your sentiments with Archer,” I added. “Thank you for your assistance.”

He dipped into a silent bow as I swept down the hallway, imbuing my footsteps with confidence I didn’t feel. My pulse was erratic enough I prayed he didn’t hear it.

The entire way down the hall, I sensed his gaze burning on my back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Archer

My quarters were dim and empty, and Isoria’s door was firmly shut. But when I shuffled further down the hall, sounds came from my private kitchen.

I stifled a groan, wondering if Orchid was restocking my pantry. Some of the servants would prepare me meals here, where I could enjoy fresh, hot food in solitude or with a few close guests. But at this hour? All I wanted was to be left alone, to drown myself in more alcohol and pray for dreamless sleep after this accursed night.

But when I paused in the entryway, it wasn’t a servant hovering over the oven, but Isoria. Her hair was tugged into a long braid that reached the middle of her back, and her cheeks were flushed as she kneaded dough beside the warm oven. She hummed as she paused her work to open the oven and remove a baking sheet with her bare hands, unbothered by the heat.

To my annoyance, Onyx was perched in an armchair she must have brought in from the library, his eyes locked on her movements as his tail twitched. Cats were supposed to be intelligent, but mine seemed to lack discernment when it came to growing attached to a dangerous being.

Or maybe he just liked her warmth.

The tempting scent of berry pastries wafted over me, and my stomach growled. Aside from the disgusting salted berries the death-lover had tried to murder me with at the feast, I had eaten little. With the hollowness in my chest, I hadn’t sensed the emptiness in my stomach, hadn’t thought I’d want anything but wine for the foreseeable future.

Embarrassingly enough, maybe that was what drew Isoria’s eyes to me at last, the song she hummed dying on her lips. The coldness in her eyes made me want to retreat, reminding me of the cold-blooded way I’d killed one of her kind earlier.

Once, I would have comforted myself through the curse, assuaging my despair with the reassurance I’d protected my people. Now, I wasn’t sure. I could still hear the echoes of Cypress’s cries. Still see the brokenness and fear in Isoria’s expression.

“I thought you’d gone to your bedchamber to drink yourself into oblivion,” Isoria said, her tone not concealing her disdain.

There was a smudge of flour on her cheek, and it was disturbingly distracting. It made her seem—real. Vulnerable. Soft.

Rather than echo the fierceness and hatred in the eyes of other phoenix shifters I’d executed, her appearance reminded me of Cypress’s innocence and vulnerability. My stomach clenched, all hunger forgotten.

My throat was dry. “I thought you had gone to bed. Where were you?”

Isoria glanced away, returning to kneading her dough with more force than earlier. As if deciding I was worth the truth, she murmured, “Visiting the main library. Surely there must be a way to free ourselves from this bond.”

I barked out a bitter laugh. “Yes, when we both die.”

She shot me a look.

“You truly think the gods have mercy, Feathers? We’re their pawns, their playthings. Look at how the revenants go unchecked. How they sit by and let our own dead kill us off.”

“It’s probably because your father stole the throne, and both the land and the gods have distanced themselves from his rule.” Her proclamation came like a confession, heated and annoyed, full of the truth that none of Father’s subjects dared voice aloud.