Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)(123)

Dacre’s blood began to flow, a glittering gold on the stone. A sickly-sweet smell enveloped the air as Iris found herself dropping to her knees, the sword clattering from her hand. But she felt the pressure change, making her heart skip a beat.

From the corner of her eye, Iris watched as Enva’s illusion evanesced into the shadows.





{51}

Spilled Ichor




Roman was still dreaming when he felt the ground slide beneath him. There was the clink of iron, a hiss of steam. A painful throb around his wrists. A man’s voice, cursing through the static.

“Wake up!”

A hand shook him and, when that failed to rouse him, slapped his cheek. Roman stirred, his eyes heavy-lidded and full of grit. It took a moment for the colors to return to his sight, for all the blurred edges to turn crisp and defined.

To his immense shock, he was staring up at Lieutenant Shane.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked.

“What does it look like? I’m getting you out of here.” Shane took hold of his arms, dragging him up. “Can you stand?”

Roman found his feet but wobbled. “Give me a moment.”

Shane supported Roman’s weight but huffed in impatience. “We don’t have a moment. We need to hurry. Things are evolving in ways I didn’t expect, and we need to return above.”

“What do you mean?” Roman took a step forward. With each passing moment, he felt steadier, although his head viciously throbbed. He flexed his hands, realizing they were free from the chains. “How did you…?”

Shane withdrew a key from his inner pocket. It was still stained with Captain Landis’s blood. The key that had gone missing, or, Roman realized, that Dacre had set out as bait on the table, to see which of his soldiers would swipe it.

“Why did you steal it?” Roman asked. “Are you part of the Graveyard?”

“Yes. And we need its power,” Shane said, hurrying him along the path. He kicked a small skull out of the way. “We can lock or unlock any of Dacre’s doorways. We can glean the resources from the under realm now.”

“What about the other four keys?”

“Val is presumed dead. He never fetched Iris, if you were worried about that. We don’t know where he is, but he failed to return after he brought you here. His key is unaccounted for, although I can imagine who has it.”

Roman drew in a slow, shaky breath. But his bones ached when he wondered where Iris was.

“Dacre is also dead,” Shane said simply. As if he were announcing a weather forecast, and not the end of a god. “But I haven’t heard where his key is.”

Roman tripped. “Dead?”

“Your girl Iris cut off his head. Brought it up to a café not long ago. Or so the rumors are spreading. Here, we need to hurry.”

Roman didn’t have time to process it, although when he blinked, he saw a flash of Iris, dragging Dacre’s severed head by his golden hair.

He shivered at the vision.

“You left Oath to enlist for Dacre,” Roman said next, slowly piecing together Shane’s past. “But you never had the intention to serve him. You’ve been fooling him this entire time, gathering information for the Graveyard. How to kill a god. Finding a key for the underworld. Memorizing the ley lines.”

“Does that shock you, Roman? Were you not doing the same?”

“He wounded me and then took me into his service against my own volition. I didn’t choose him.”

The men’s conversation stalled when they reached the door, lined with citrine crystals and vines. Roman tried to keep pace with Shane, but his breath began to heave. His throat felt constricted, his lungs small. He paused to cough into his sleeve, numb when he saw a constellation of blood spotting the fabric.

Shane noticed through the gloam.

“You’ll need to see a doctor soon,” he said. “In fact, there are about to be many sick soldiers, now that his spell has broken.”

Roman said nothing. He dropped his arm and continued onward with Shane, even as the incline made his chest burn. He didn’t recognize the passages they wove through, but when they reached the foot of a stairwell, he stopped Shane.

“Why did you give me up to him?” Roman asked. “Why did you betray me?”

“Why didn’t you deliver the message as I asked you to? Dacre would have been dead days ago, and the bombing would have never happened,” Shane countered. But then he sighed, his posture softening. “Listen. When I stole the key, Dacre began to search us all, hell-bent on discovering which one of us was the mole. I gave him your account to save myself, as selfish as that may sound. And I wouldn’t have cared what happened to you, save for the fact that you refused to give me up in turn. So here I am now, risking myself to pay back my debt.”

“There are no debts,” Roman rasped.

“In war,” Shane said, “there are always debts. Now come on. We’re almost to the safe house.”



* * *



Iris stood on Broad Street, staring at the Oath Gazette.The building had been struck and torn open. Bricks, glass, twisted pieces of metal, and personal possessions sat in heaps, glittering in the afternoon light. She could see a few typewriters, half-buried in the rubble.

The Gazette was gone.