“Varros won’t let this slide.”
“I know.”
“The Court will?—”
“I don’t care.”
He stopped walking.
She did too.
He looked at her—really looked at her.
“I’m not going back to the Citadel,” he said. “And neither are you.”
She raised a brow. “You planning to kidnap me?”
“No,” he said. “I’m giving you the choice.”
Her gaze softened. “I already made it.”
He took her through the slit he made but not out the way he came. He knew of the tunnels and they led to where they needed to go for the next shard. Below the camp.
They didn’t reunite with the others. Not this time.
When she asked where the others were, his answer was low, regretful.
“They’re heading back to the Citadel,” he said. “Varros let them go, under the condition they report to the Court.”
“And you didn’t stop them?”
“I couldn’t. We were outnumbered. Outranked. The mission would’ve been over if I did.”
Seraphine had gone quiet at that. Not angry, but something close. Something worse.
Cassian led them deeper into the lava tunnels. Not from memory. Not this time.
From the map.
They’d cross-referenced the etched circles from Malrik’s vision against the leyline distortions. And the next shard—if the gods had a shred of mercy—was buried beneath the oldest temple in the region, deep in the Hollow’s edge right underneath where they had tried to hold Seraphine.
Seraphine walked close behind him, eyes scanning every flicker of light, every hiss of sulfur. Her armor stuck to her skin, her braid soaked with sweat. But she didn’t complain. Not once.
Cassian’s respect for her had been forged in fire long before now. But it deepened every time she didn’t flinch.
They reached the hollow chamber just before dusk.
A massive dome of blackened stone stretched before them, rimmed with four shattered spires that jutted like the teeth of a dead god. Lava seeped in streams along the walls, illuminating runes half-lost to time.
Cassian stopped just inside, jaw tight.
“This is it,” he said. “The shard should be somewhere near the central altar.”
He stepped forward. And that’s when the shadows shifted.
A woman with platinum hair and cold blue eyes stepped out from behind the furthest spire, wrapped in crimson silk, her smile all venom and certainty.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
