In the Otherworld, as Bale grew stronger the closer the eclipse became, I remember questioning my own sanity. Rationalizing that I was thinking her thoughts, not my own. Hearing her. Praying it to be true—
And maybe it was.
“You did heal them,” Teagan says, lowering her hands, her focus solely on me. “But wasn’t it so much easier to gift madness? To punish them rather than to save them?”
“Go to hell.”
She laughs. “Oh, my lovely girl, we’re almost there.”
Then, to my utter confusion, she lowers herself to kneel on one knee. “I’ve served for a very long time, My Liege. Waiting for the day my goddess would be made whole again.” She bows her head. “As a true follower of Bale, it would be remiss of me to only serve one half of my goddess.”
? 17 ?
Caben
AS THE MORNING LIGHT bleeds into the cracks of my eyes, I curse aloud, “Shit.”
Despite my vicious hangover, and the pounding in my head—the goddess stomping her figurative foot on my cerebrum—another pain pulses sharp and hot. Wiping the crusty sleep from one eye, I spot the source.
My palm is dotted and slashed with recent, angry damage. Cut into my skin is the design of wings encircling the goddess sun. The sight of it triggers a memory—one of talking to Bax last night—and I instantly shut it down. Instead, trying only to think of the moment when I scooped the emblem from the black earth of the Cage arena.
Kal’s protector insignia.
My token.
Welcome back, Prince.
Bale’s alluring voice sweeps through my mind with as little force as a hurricane.
“Did you miss me, my dark mistress?” Blinking my eyes a few times, I clear my blurry vision. Then I set to work bathing the funk of alcohol saturated skin from my body.
The hot water clears my head further, and Bale revels in claiming that space for herself once again.
We must know her exact location…soon. If she’s allowed to breach our legion’s borders, no amount of punishment will be enough.
“Yes, yes, Your Darkness.” Scrubbing my skin, I run the bar of soap over my forearm, down to my wrist. Then my hand. I massage the suds into the wound, enjoying the sting instead of wincing, as I hold on to the last of my will.
I’ve pushed it and the remnants of last night’s events into a pocket of my mind—one where only touching the emblem has allowed me to reserve for myself. Where the dark goddess can probe, but not fully enter. It’s not much, but it’s mine.
When I’m dressed in one of my black suits and cloak, striking and daring, bringing me back to my dashing self, I’m ready to take on the day. Into the fray, as my father would say. And down the loft ladder I go. Into the den. Ha. If only when I constructed my fortress, I’d had known how ironic that name would be.
Into the lion’s den! I want to shout.
A growl fills my head. You’re losing mental stability, Prince.
I laugh. “What did you expect, My Queen? Isn’t insanity your specialty?”
A sudden, fierce image of Kal flashes in my mind. Her long hair falling over her bare shoulders, surrounding me, tickling my face, as she moves above…
I stop before reaching the common quarters of the treehouse, force my eyes closed. Palming my head, I say, “Those are not your thoughts, witch.”
You need them. Let them feed you. You’re becoming too weak.
I shake my head hard, then open my eyes and march toward the side office. Bypassing the Otherworlders mingling in the den.
Pushing the door open, I immediately halt in the entrance. Bax is shackled, one cuffed forearm strewn across his eyes, asleep. A fleeting memory tries to surface, but I tamp it down. I’m becoming exhausted already. The fight is wearing me out, and I’ve only been awake a little over an hour.
“This won’t do,” I mumble, making my way over to the cherry oak desk. To think, I never really cared for drinking before; didn’t like anything that dulled my senses. But now, I go for the bottle of liquor like I’ll spontaneously combust if I don’t get a taste soon.