“You…You’ll help me?” I ask softly.
“I owe my king and queen my life. I couldn’t save them then, but I can offer them peace now.” Standing, he holds the book to his chest as he drops to his knees before me. “I offer you my loyalty, Cora, the bringer of truth and magic. Until our quest is successful, I will be your blade, your protector.”
I stare, my heart thumping hard, as he rises to his feet once more.
Something like hope fills me—hope that we can truly do this.
“Not another one,” Bracken grumbles, making us all laugh, and I share a smile with Razcorr, silently thanking him for his offer.
It’s time to reunite the lost lovers and save our lands.
It’s time to fracture the shadows that have surrounded us into a million tiny pieces…
ChapterThirty-Five
“The only solution is to travel to the human realm and find the queen’s resting place,” I argue, standing in the courtyard with my hands on my hips as I survey my men.
“It’s too dangerous,” Grim rumbles, shaking his head. “We don’t exactly blend in.”
“Good,” Zetros retorts, his expression stern. “Let them run from us as we storm their castle.”
Krug sniffs. “The human king will never allow us to get near the castle, let alone close enough to find the queen’s resting place, steal her body, and get out unscathed.”
Nero is closest to me, his coils wrapped around me in comfort. His eyes trail over to Razcorr every now and then, as if he’s studying the gargoyle. I can’t blame him. Past his initial words, Razcorr has mostly been silent as he watches us, but his eyes continuously trail back to me. At first, I thought it was simply because I woke him up, but now, I’m starting to think there’s something else. It doesn’t help that when he looks at me, my magic wakes up and dances under my skin as if calling to him.
From the queen…or something else?
“Do you think he learned the skill of being so still or he was born with it?” Nero whispers, studying the gargoyle. Razcorr is so still, I’d almost think he turned to stone again, if not for seeing the stone break away, leaving a sensual, gray-skinned monster in its wake.
“Born with it,” Bracken answers on my other side. “All gargoyles have the skill, but this one is a master at it. Think if I throw something at him, he’ll move?”
In answer, Razcorr blinks but remains still. “I can hear you.”
“Oh, good!” Bracken continues. “Will you move if I throw something at you?”
Razcorr’s dark eyes focus on the fey, locked and unwavering. “Attempt it, and learn why gargoyles are not to be trifled with, feyling.”
Bracken puffs up. “I’m no feyling.”
“To me, you are,” Razcorr murmurs, his gaze trailing back to me, making me straighten. “I have lived many of your lifetimes.”
The others continue to argue about the best way to slip into the human realm without incident. I’m starting to think there is no sure way to achieve our goal. This will end in another war, whether after or before we complete our task. The human king will never allow us to slip into the Gilded Lands and steal the body unscathed, and if we succeed, he’ll never allow the monsters to live in peace, not when they have their magic back—magic he will want for himself. Some twisted part of me relishes the idea of seeing the look that will undoubtedly be on his face as I storm into the castle, front and center of my monsters, but another part understands that moving in the silence of the night would be the better option. If we can reunite Emelyn and Kulmak without anyone being the wiser, then we’ll bring magic back to the land before we descend into battle. Something tells me that’s our better option, but another part understands it might not be possible. While I can blend into the Shadow Lands and even the Gilded Lands, none of my monsters can pass for human. Most are entirely too big to even wear a cloak, and then there is Nero and his coils. There’s no way he can step foot inside the Shadow Lands without an alarm sounding. Of the group, only Zetros could pass for some semblance of a human, but even he, with his height, would stand out.
“Do we even know where Kulmak is buried?” I ask suddenly, and everyone grows silent. “We know we have to find Emelyn in the Gilded Lands, but shouldn’t the king be here?”
Razcorr nods his head slowly. “He’s buried beneath the castle, Cora the Fearless, in the underbelly of the mausoleum.”
Biting my lip, I offer my hand to him. “Can we see it?” At first, he looks at my fingers and at me in confusion. “It might offer more clues,” I add when he hesitates.
Eventually, he reaches his clawed hand forward and takes my fingers in his to lead us inside the castle. His hand is warm in mine, engulfing my fingers in his clasp without even trying. Everything about Razcorr is sensual, from the way he moves to the way his wings shuffle delicately on his back. The urge to stroke those leathery membranes is strong, but I’m sure that would be improper.
Still, I’m tempted to ask if I can touch them.
His fingers tighten on mine when we reach a staircase that leads down into the belly of the castle, just like he said. This is where I’d imagine dungeons to be located, but when we reach the bottom of the stairs, there are no cells, so I assume they are in a different part of the castle. This section is reserved for the past kings and their families.
At first, the wall is the only thing I note. Plaque after plaque is affixed to the black stone, declaring another notable person long since dead. I don’t recognize any of the names, but Razcorr strokes his fingers over many of them.
“I have served the kings of this castle for many eons, Cora the Fearless. I have buried many friends.” His gaze is sad as he studies them. “But Kulmak, my dearest friend, is not behind one of these plaques. He’s farther inside.”
