His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “Done.”
I started to demand he help me find my parents, too, but that was a merry-go-round of conversation I didn’t care to have again. If I made it out of the palace alive…unobliterated…I might revisit it. For now, I’d glean as much information as I could about where bargained souls ended up in this goddess-forsaken realm, and then I’d find them myself.
“This way.” He strode toward the wall and waved his hand in front of it. The sigils on the paper glowed, and a doorway appeared, revealing a set of stone steps that led downward into darkness. “After you.”
I peered inside and shook my head. “Again, you’re asking me to blindly step through a doorway when I have no idea what’s on the other side. No way. After you.”
“Do all women of your day and age despise chivalry, or is the quality unique to you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. The wall that once covered the opening began to shimmer back into place, so I rushed through, the sensation of claws ripping at my skin making me groan.
I stopped at the top of the stairwell to catch my breath. “You have got to stop expecting your magic not to affect me. I’m not going through any more magical wormholes.”
“If you had gone in when I asked, it wouldn’t have hurt.” He continued his descent. “Your stubbornness caused you to pass through a partially materialized wall. You’re lucky it didn’t reform completely while you were inside it.”
Against my better judgment, I followed him down. Not that I really had a choice. The doorway behind me was now a solid wall, so it was either follow him down or stay put, and I wasn’t keen on testing whether the stairway would disappear after he descended it. “I’m a rogue soul in a realm where I don’t belong. Excuse me for being cautious.”
He waved his hand at the bottom, and another opening appeared. This one led outside, into the weird red-orange sunlight, and I brushed past him to get the hell out of that staircase. No way was I walking through a half-formed wall again.
“I’m surprised that word exists in your vocabulary. This way.” He turned left and headed down a stone path running between the gardens and the palace.
If I’d had more time—and my soul wasn’t in mortal danger—I could’ve spent hours exploring the grounds. Plants grew in Hell, believe it or not, their twisting, winding vines and deep purple flowers giving the place a gothic feel. Sculptures made of basalt and obsidian depicted animals and beautiful women, and towers of rocks in varying sizes balanced atop each other, defying the laws of physics.
“Why are we skulking around the side of the palace?” Despite the nearly hip-high slit in my dress, I couldn’t take the strides of a woman on a mission. I had to scurry to keep up with him. I hated scurrying.
“Does your room not have a door on the inside?” I hiked up the dress as far as I dared, finally taking semi-normal steps.
He stopped at the split in the walk and held up a hand. “I have made nothing but mistakes since Isabel summoned me. I do not dare to waltz into a formal meeting as if I were never gone. Come.”
He clutched my hand, and we rushed down the right-hand path toward a small arch in a stone wall. Well, he rushed.
I scurried like a squirrel. “Alright, Prince Pain In My Ass, I need you to slow down. You can’t put me in a movement-restricting costume and expect me to keep up with your long-ass strides.”
“Would you prefer I bend space again and drop you at the front door?” He kept walking.
“No, thanks.”
“Then keep up.”
We walked in silence for another minute or two before we crossed a foot bridge over a moat of lava. The viscous liquid bubbled and steamed beneath us, and I moved behind Discord so I could walk smack down the center. You’d think a bridge over a friggin’ lava stream would have walls or handrails or something, but no.
Apparently, the kingdom of Hell didn’t give a flying flip about OSHA regulations.
Safely on the other side of the bridge, we hung a left and made our way toward the main entrance. The palace was massive. Looking up at the spiraling turrets, I nearly lost my balance, stumbling before steadying myself with Discord’s shoulder.
“Release your dress. You look like a harlot when you walk like that.” He plucked my hand from his shoulder and adjusted his sleeves before smoothing the front of his jacket. “You are about to be in the presence of a god. Our situation demands reverence and class.”
“First of all, no one says harlot anymore.” I hiked the dress even higher.
He looked down his nose at me. “And second?”
I was about to launch into a speech about how sex workers deserved the same respect as any other person, but a rumbly blast that sounded like a foghorn emanated from the palace. The obsidian bridge glowed with red sigils, and Discord took off, crossing it without another word.
I scurried—once again—and followed him to the entrance. A set of polished wooden doors soared fifteen feet high, and the thunk of a lock disengaging sounded before two harpy-hounds pushed them open.
My heart tried to creep into my throat, so I swallowed hard. “Are those the same guys who threw me into your jail?”
“They are not.” He touched the small of my back and ushered me inside, completely ignoring the dogs who’d opened the doors.
I turned my head, watching one as we passed. “They all look the same.”
