Page 83 of Ruin of Revenants

He’s murdering our guards now. It was a punch to the gut. What if his ire turned on Grey or Owen? Or on soldiers he added to our phoenix hunts, like Lily or her father?

There was a lump in my throat, and suddenly, I couldn’t force a smile. My mask was slipping. The urge to announce that I didn’t give a damn what my father thought of the phoenixes, that I would never murder one again, that I hated him for abandoning our people and drowning Rainsong in excess while using me as his weapon—it was so strong, I thought about throwing everything away. Risking it all.

Isoria.

Thinking of her stabilized my mounting, chaotic emotions. I glanced through narrowed eyes at my father, wondering how he was thriving on gleaning power from his own son’s misery.

I couldn’t risk Isoria by revealing my changing feelings toward the phoenixes. Father would find the shift suspicious and start to ask more questions about her origins, her family, her history. My lies would grow thin, especially if he demanded an advisor to research and find records of the Gildmeres that had once resided in Rainsong and suddenly vanished.

I swallowed thickly. “I won’t waste another moment. I’ll summon Grey—even Owen and Lily if they can be spared—and organize a hunting party made up of the best of the best. No one is going to burn our city to ashes.”

“You’d better remember it,” Father snapped. He leaned forward, orange eyes practically severing into me. “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been leaving the city at night. You’ve only gone unpunished this long for your attempts at playing the hero because you’re my son. But perhaps I need to remind you what’s at stake.”

My pulse throbbed in my ears. “Yes, Father,” I said, not daring to reply with a witty comeback this time.

“You know our family’s very existence is counting on you,” Briar interjected haughtily. Easy enough for her to say, when she wasted her days away in luxury, Father keeping his precious daughter far away from the troublesome business of phoenix hunting. Her power was not nearly as useful as mine, and though she was a talented fighter in her own right—Father had carefully ensured we’d both trained practically since infancy—he valued her much more for her mind—her advice, her strategy, her organization. She thought like him.

Shoving away from the table, I silently cursed myself for what I was about to get myself into.

My only comfort was that Bren couldn’t be found.

But what other phoenixes would our guards find still hiding in the capital? Most had long since fled, but far too many had remained, especially with the growing threat outside the barrier.

How long could I keep helping them escape without being caught? Without my own friends questioning me?

I had a growing, dreadful sense that I was running out of time.

Chapter Forty-Two

Isoria

Archer had scarcely been in his quarters the past two days, and other than the return of Briar’s pestering visits regarding wedding plans, I hadn’t seen anyone but servants. Orchid had told me that every available phoenix hunter was consumed with the search for the recently escaped male, that King Wystan was furious the prisoner hadn’t been executed immediately upon his capture.

“Thank you for keeping our secret,” I’d murmured, meeting Orchid’s gaze in the mirror as she’d combed through my hair.

She’d paused, fluffing her own pink hair, her eyes distant. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I always thought of your kind as…cruel. That you had an unnatural relationship with death and fire and wanted to see our kingdom burn. But now I’m realizing, it’s all hearsay. If I met a phoenix shifter before you, I didn’t know. I trusted the gossip and the lies King Wystan spread. You and your brother are nothing like what I was taught. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

I dipped my head, blinking at the tears flooding my vision. “It’s not your fault, Orchid. You didn’t know any better, but now you do, and you’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy and kind. You don’t know what that means to me.”

When I turned on my seat, her eyes widened in surprise, but when I stood and opened my arms, she accepted my hug. She smelled of jasmine, the same flowers she’d once carefully weaved into my hair. “You are a true friend.”

Orchid pulled back, blinking rapidly and wiping at her own eyes. “It’s an honor to be considered a friend, Your Highness.”

When Briar stopped wasting my time each morning, I hastened to the castle library. I didn’t have much time left, and I had to find a cure. Now that I was half-confident I could get Archer to accompany me back home again, I abandoned my efforts toward finding a way to break our bond and focused only on whatever afflicted the phoenixes.

On the second afternoon, I made my way to the back of the fifth level, where a shadowy alcove holding a heavily barred door was half-concealed by shelves that seemed purposefully arranged to hide it.

I’d immediately hunted down the first librarian I could find in the echoey space.

“Could you assist me with opening a door on the fifth level?” I asked the female, keeping my tone steady and confident, hoping I sounded like a future princess whose wishes I expected to be honored.

She had freckles like a young doe, her wide, brown eyes deep and curious. When she hesitated, swiping the wild curls out of her face, she glanced around her office. I’d found her on the third level, in one of countless offices full of desks and stacked books and scrolls. Some were vacant, others full of more librarians occupied with work. She’d been the first to glance up with a friendly smile, but now she looked afraid.

“That is a space reserved for forbidden books,” she explained in a low voice. “King Wystan selected various works about the Emberglade family and their history—ones that were maybe too favorable—along with some about trolls that he decided weren’t to be for public consumption.”

I frowned. “But I am Prince Archer’s betrothed. Surely as a future princess, I need to know about our history.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m afraid one can only enter that room with King Wystan’s express permission.”