On feet that were much too loud given that I hadn’t completed the fucking Undertaking, I crept after the Angel. I peered around the corner, but his light was just disappearing down a staircase at the end of this corridor.
I waited against the tapestry lining this stretch of wall. Valyrie had been spending a fortune in the city adding new decor to the palace, and while the entitlement grated on me, at least this piece absorbed some of the sound of my steps. It was animage of a gryphon to guard the treasures and captives beneath the ground or some Angelshit legend.
When Damien’s steps faded, I prowled to the top of the stairs. Voices drifted up from the bowels of the palace. Deep rumbling tones and low laughter.
There was little light down there, the reflection of the magic cast off the Angel’s wings stark against stone. Gold, and what might have been a hint of blue, faded as they walked further away. Gaveny, most likely. The Angel commanded seas and tides with his magic. I hadn’t seen it in action since they were freed, but the torture he alone could inflict on a prisoner had my chest tightening.
I didn’t have a weapon, but what good would that do against an Angel anyway? I had to know who was down there. So, I followed down the stairs, not stopping until I came to a fork in the passageway. But?—
What in Damien’s name?
They hadn’t gone left to the cells.
They went right.
Toward the vaults.
And more low voices were rising now. Male and female, barely more than whispers. I tried to let my steps blend in with them. At least being deep within the mountains abated the fire in my veins, but a sweat broke out for an entirely different reason. My heart thundered, and if they didn’t hear my steps, I was certain that damn pounding would give me away.
Pressing my back to the wall, I took a deep breath and told the organ in my chest to shut the fuck up.
The door to the vault was just around this corner, and based on the array of colors playing against dark, craggy stone and the low murmur of voices, all seven Angels and the god himself were down here.
If they saw me, Echnid would certainly torture me until my heart gave out.
“What are we here for, sir?” Damien asked, speaking above the others. His voice boomed against stone, his gold ether shimmering with it.
Not to be outdone, Echnid matched his tone. “The time is up. If we have not yet found it, then it will all be destroyed.”
The time?
Three days’ time. That was what Ptholenix, Gaveny, and Damien had been discussing when I’d overheard them before Echnid had Rozelyn drug me and bring me to the ballroom. Three days’ time, then he wanted them to get rid of…something.
“Are you certain?” Damien asked, voice still projecting, but I almost thought there was a waver of concern in it.
A scrape of metal against stone ricocheted around the passageway.
“Yes,” Echnid swore.
The light slowly filtered forward as if the Angels were leaving. I peeked around the corner. The vault door was wide open, and Echnid floated within. Only beams of the Angels’ light were visible, cascading to the floor as if they hovered near the high ceilings.
And rows of gold gleamed before them.
Bars of the damn stuff that Lucidius had hoarded for years while his people suffered. Priceless artifacts, weapons that had been dipped in sacred sources of magic or forged in the Spirit Volcano. Paintings and sculptures carved by the hands of renowned artists, from a peaceful age when warriors laid down their swords and indulged in scholarship and art.
The vault stretched deep into the mountains, more wealth than I could count stored down here. I’d only stepped foot in there a handful of times and never explored it all.
What the fuck did Echnid want?
He was a damn god. He didn’t need gold to claim power.
I didn’t dare breathe too heavily as I watched, trying to figure out what could be in there that Echnid had the Angels searching for.
“Ptholenix,” Echnid said, calling the Bodymelder from his perch.
He drifted down with his typical stoic calm, expansive wings reflecting a myriad of oranges and reds as he tucked them in. He landed beside Echnid, neither bothering to look at the other. Their eyes were locked on the glittering treasures before them.
“Melt it,” Echnid commanded in deranged glee.
