Wind howled through gnarled tree branches on either side of the path, and the scent of the nearby sea hung heavy in the warm air.
My feet crunched over the wet pebbles. I glanced up at the gargoyles, visible now through the fog. All I really knew about this place was that Mom had lived here, and Mortana, too, long ago.
And that Mom’s husband might have burned to death right where I was walking now. He was my dad, or so I assumed.
A tragic presence clung to the façade, and I shivered, looking back at the place where a burned body had been found. Another indication, I mused, that it wasn’t me who’d killed Mom. Maybe not the Hunters, either, since they couldn’t enter the city.
A buried, molten anger rose to the surface, a searing heat that burned my forehead. Before me, rays of light tinged the mist with gold. A gust of wind blew the fog away, and when I looked down, I saw it—the symbol that had haunted my nightmares for years—the six-pointed star reflected in a puddle.
My heart beat faster. A memory buried in the recesses of my mind stirred, but I didn’t want to see it.
An eerie, forlorn wind rushed over me as I climbed the steps. Crossing between the columns, I paused with my hand on the front door.
When we’d come here a few days ago, Orion had said that the City of Thorns wasn’t like the mortal world. Here, the air was imbued with magic, and memories lingered tangibly. Tragedy wrapped itself around the wood and marble, hanging like a bitter, heavy miasma. The hair stood up on my nape.
The door was still open a crack from the last time we’d run out of here—when I’d fled the building. I pushed it open wider and stepped inside, standing once more among the cobwebs and smashed busts of my relatives. Sighing, I glanced up at the high ceiling adorned with faded paintings of vines and ripe fruit.
Eerie, yes, but I was glad to be here alone. This time, I could explore without Orion looking over me.
Loneliness cloaked the mosaic floor of blue and gold and the murals on the walls. Sadness tightened my chest, and I found myself hurrying up the creaking stairs.
When I reached the third floor, I walked slowly through the halls, stopping to peer into a bedroom with deep green paint, chipped by the passage of years, and a canopy bed of faded red material that smelled musty and stale. Moonlight streamed through an enormous pair of balcony doors.
My eye caught something I hadn’t seen before—a portrait hanging on the wall. I’d never seen the face in the painting, but recognition hit me like a fist. I hurried inside, transfixed by the image, the likeness of a man with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and shocking red hair, nearly unnatural in its color. Red hair the same shade as mine, blending to blond at the tips, curling down around his chin. The image in the frame filled in all the missing pieces, the differences between mom and me. There was no doubt in my mind that he was my father. I felt a lump in my throat as I read the name below the portrait: Duke Moloch.
Orion thought Moloch had been burned just outside.
I ran my fingertips over the name engraved on the gold frame, wishing I could have met him just once.
And as I touched his name, my mind ticked over the words in the nursery rhyme that I’d found here last week.
The Maere of Night
gave girls a fright,
but one queen loved him well.
He lost the throne,
but seeds were sown
in the garden of Adele.
Was this about Orion?
Whoever had written that poem had intentionally cloaked the real meaning. Why had this poem popped into my mind just now? I stared up at my father. As the words played in my mind again and again, a thought took root.
This was a poem about a Lilu male—a Maere of Night. My father had been one, of course.
My gaze lingered over his fiery hair, and I wondered if I’d gotten my fire magic from him.
He lost the throne…
My father was the true son of the mad king Azriel from the old days. He could have been the heir, but he lost out to Nergal.
Seeds were sown in the garden of Adele…
Adele was King Cambriel’s mother—Nergal’s wife. And the seeds? Okay, I did not want to think about my newly discovered father’s semen, but I’m guessing those were the seeds.
I shuddered, thinking of King Cambriel’s cold beauty, his long, pale hair, his high cheekbones…
Like my dad’s.
Dark eyes like ours. If you took Duke Moloch here, gave him blond hair…
Yeah, he’d look a lot like King Cambriel.
Had my dad knocked up Cambriel’s mom?
I started pacing the room, and the old floorboards creaked beneath my feet.
If all that was correct, then Cambriel wasn’t the true king at all. He was my half brother. My lip curled. Had he realized that when he’d leered at me?
He was someone with a rare fire power, like mine. Someone who could have lit Moloch on fire. Someone who could have burned Mom to death for knowing his secret.
I swallowed hard, my heart rate speeding up. Orion also had fire power. Please tell me he’s not also a relation.
I sucked in a deep breath. Turning, I began to pace again, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my damp sweatpants.
Orion had the mark of Lucifer. Unlike Cambriel, he was destined to rule—and only someone like that could murder a king.
The wind howled through the cracks in the old windows, and I pivoted again. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to slide together in my mind.
Orion had wanted me to identify Cambriel’s magical protection, the thing keeping him alive. But a true king wouldn’t need that. A true, destined king could only be killed by an heir.
That was Orion’s plan, wasn’t it? Orion had said he’d been blackmailing Cambriel. Now I knew why. He knew the king was no king at all.
Orion knew that he possessed the mark of Lucifer.
And as soon as he figured out what kept the king alive, he would kill him and take the throne for himself.
I crossed my arms as I paced and tried to remember the rest of the nursery rhyme. I had a photo of it in my phone, but the battery was still dead, so I closed my eyes, seeing the words in my mind’s eye.
A Swindler king,
a golden ring
to keep his heart alive.
Take the ring,
fell the king.
The city yet will thrive.
My eyes snapped open. That was pretty clear, wasn’t it? A golden ring.
I ran the words over and over in my head, certain that my parents had given me the secret to killing the king.
If the king took his rings off, he could be killed.
I bit my lip, wondering if this was why my parents had died.
They’d known how to end Cambriel.
Chapter 5—Rowan
I left the green chamber and went into the room with the portrait of my mom. Moonlight spilled through tall windows, bathing everything in a ghostly silver. I was still wearing damp, bloodstained clothes. Going to an enormous wardrobe on one side of her bed, I opened the doors and stared at her dresses. They were a little threadbare but mostly preserved by time, silk dresses with puffed sleeves, some with beautiful lace, others with ruffled collars. None of them looked comfortable. My gaze went to a short white gown with full sleeves and a rounded collar. It must be a slip, or maybe a smock, with delicately embroidered trim.
In any case, I’d be borrowing it from Mom. I pulled off my wet clothes, standing cold and naked, and slipped into the white dress. I stared down at the shift, trying to imagine Mom in this garment. For a moment, I thought I smelled her floral scent.