Tale of the Heart Queen (Artefacts of Ouranos #4)

Chapter 60

C HAPTER 60

RION

S OMEWHERE U NDER THE M OUNTAINS

T he girl lay at his feet, her hair spilling over the tops of his shoes, her eyes closed, and her jaw slack. He noted her red dress. The heart-shaped jewel on the dagger strapped around her waist winked in the dim light.

The Heart Queen.

Finally. After months of frustration and losing her at every turn, he had her. This girl who he’d captured and tortured a decade ago on an ephemeral promise that failed to manifest would now become his salvation.

He bent down and hauled her up, tossing her over his shoulder before he spun around to face his son. Liquor flowed through his veins, and he blinked as everything around him tilted. He waited in a staggered stance until his vision returned to normal.

Nadir sat on the ground, tethered to the unconscious sister, both of them bound and gagged by the magic of virulence. He’d leashed those foul dogs to the stone floor, where they thrashed against their restraints, their teeth bared and their snarls filling the tight cavern.

Nadir struggled, too, shouting over the gag stuffed in his mouth, but the words were lost. Rion didn’t need to hear them to understand his vitriol. The dark loathing in his son’s eyes had been dragged from the deepest pits of the Underworld. Nadir had always hated him and with good reason. This hatred was borne from the most shadowed corners of the world.

Was Nadir in love with this girl? How deep did that love go? She was technically a Primary, and thanks to Cloris, Rion knew what had happened during that cursed bonding between Serce and Wolf, even if so few others did. Would Nadir give up a crown for love? Never, Rion decided. As much as Nadir might be loath to admit it, they were more alike than either wanted to admit. They were cut from the same cloth, and his son would never let anything get in the way of what he wanted.

Rion stared at Nadir and the sister, considering what to do as uncertainty stayed his hand. He could kill them both without a thought, but perhaps some weak, sentimental part of him lived in the deepest recesses of his withered heart. A father shouldn’t kill his son, no matter the misery he’d caused.

“Say goodbye to her,” Rion said instead. “I do hope you enjoyed whatever time you had together. ”

“Mmmmppfff,” Nadir screamed against his bindings. He thrashed and bucked, but the restraints held on. They would dissipate in time—but by then, Rion would be long gone.

Not just gone but reunited with the woman that he loved.

Rion spun on his heel and continued deeper into the cavern until Nadir’s muffled shouts receded into the distance. Down, down, down Rion carried her as their surroundings grew darker and darker. He’d left the map Herric had directed him to create in his library, but he’d already memorized every step. The moment he knew Rachel was waiting at the end of this journey, he didn’t hesitate.

Rion used a ball of magic to light the way, but the oppressiveness of this place was enough to smother even his strongest magic. Whispers floated up from below, bouncing off stone walls and the inside of his skull. They were vacant and yet full of presence. They could only be souls of the Underworld calling him deeper. Deeper than he ever thought possible.

How had Rachel fallen so far? What desperation had steered her towards the sorts of people who’d condemned her to this fate? Rion wasn’t sure how, but he would make it his mission to bring her back out. Herric had hinted it was possible, and he would use the girl as his bargaining chip.

Herric obviously couldn’t reach her on his own, so Rion would withhold her and the ark until he’d extracted a promise to return Rachel to the surface. He knew negotiating with the Lord of the Underworld was a risky gamble, but it was the only thing he had left.

Rion stumbled over a rock and crashed into a wall, his head spinning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but the alcohol burned in his blood, making walking over the rough terrain challenging.

The girl moaned, and he sent out another tendril of virulence magic to keep her unconscious.

As he wove back and forth, the walk dragged on. Rion winced at the ache in his shoulder and back as he hoisted her up, trying to find a more comfortable position. Even with the benefit of his Fae strength, her body was starting to drag him down.

He shook his head and inhaled a deep breath, but without the freshness of a breeze, it just congealed in his lungs, making him even more lightheaded.

But he had to get to the Underworld before his son found him. Rion knew he would. Nadir had never liked anyone touching the things he believed belonged to him.

After what felt like hours, Rion was ready to collapse from exhaustion, his joints and muscles quivering from strain. Finally, he entered a dark cavern, the ceiling soaring so high that it disappeared into the shadows.

Peering up, he threw a ball of magic into the air and watched it dissipate into the gloom pressing in from all sides. A smooth wall of rock stood at the far end of the cavern, shimmering softly with its own source of dim light. His breath hitched. This was his destination.

Rion hoisted the girl higher on his shoulder before he crossed the cavern. Every footstep echoed like a lightning strike as he felt the air crowd in around him. It felt almost like walking through water as the weight on his lungs increased, trying to drown him. When he reached the wall, he placed his palm against it as Herric had instructed. The stone was warm to the touch despite the frigid air permeating these mountains.

Now he heard the whispers more clearly as they grew more distinct. Through the sounds he could make out the words and eventually the voice he’d come to know all too well.

You have her? Herric asked, and Rion nodded, relief expanding in his chest. Despite everything and the lengths he’d gone to find this place, a small part of him had wondered if any of this had been real. And the ark?

“I have it.”

There was a long pause as Rion was left stewing in the bleak mire of uncertainty.

A click broke through the whispers, and then, the wall started to move. It ground open slowly, dust and debris raining down as though it hadn’t been opened in a very long time.

Rion stepped back, his chest and shoulders expanding with deep breaths.

Then Rion, king of The Aurora, enter.

The door revealed another tunnel, glowing with purple light, its walls made of luminescent stone.

“Come,” Herric said, his voice no longer a whisper in his mind but solid and corporeal, echoing off the walls like nails penetrating steel. Rion hesitated, suddenly wondering if this was madness. Some instinct told him he could still turn back if he chose. That it wasn’t too late. But if he crossed over that threshold, he might be trapped here forever.

“She’s waiting for you,” Herric said, and that was all the motivation he needed. It was a risk he would take willingly. There was nothing left for him on the surface, anyway.

Rion proceeded carefully down the tunnel as the colors shifted around him in a wash of glowing pinks and greens and blues. He’d always imagined the Underworld to be even darker than the mountains—not this riot of color. He wondered if this was all an homage to the aurora that Herric had lost sight of all those years ago. Perhaps deep down, every one of us was a bit sentimental.

Rion continued walking, his shoulders and back aching from carrying the girl for so many hours. The alcohol in his blood had finally worn off, and though his head pounded, he could at least manage a straight line.

Movements slithered in and out of Rion’s periphery, and every time he turned, they would be gone. It was impossible to catch their source. He shook his head, deciding it didn’t matter. He had one destination now, and it was the woman waiting for him.

He wound down, deeper and deeper, like the world was swallowing him up, until finally the path leveled off and he entered another long tunnel, this one lined with mirrors reflecting more of that eerie luminescent light. He continued walking, seeing his face reflected in the mirror over and over. He barely recognized himself, his eyes wild and his skin pale. He was no longer the king he once was. Maybe he hadn’t been for a long time.

The ground vibrated beneath his feet, a thrumming swimming in his limbs. As he continued walking, the rhythm pulsed through his chest, throbbing into the marrow of his bones .

It felt like . . . music? Nothing about this place was what he’d expected.

He continued around a bend until a large archway appeared before him and beyond that, a massive, brightly lit room. The floor turned from rough stone to silver, white, and black tiles, each one as shiny and smooth as glass.

He entered the cavern, where hundreds of bodies danced and swayed to the sounds of thundering music. They were dressed in things Rion had never seen before. Shiny black leather layered with silver spikes that sprang from their shoulders. Helmets made of various colored metals, with more spikes and feathers. Their faces were painted with swirls and lace and all manner of intricate patterns. They laughed and chattered, their heads tipping back as they cackled, the sound like shattering glass.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was a party.

He watched for several long seconds, marinating in the incomprehensible existence of his surroundings. This was the Underworld? Had he been tricked? Was any of this real?

Suddenly, the music cut off, and every eye in the room slowly turned his way.

Rion waited, holding completely still as though he might escape their scrutiny. He felt their naked examination as they eyed him up and down. After another moment, they began to shuffle towards either side of the cavern, clearing a wide path down the middle.

He regarded the crowd with suspicion as they studied him, their gazes vacant but also . . . curious and hungry.

“Approach,” came a deep, slithering voice that rooted into the corners of his mind. He stared down the length of the path, swallowing hard as he gathered the slivers of his courage. Then he straightened his shoulders as best as he could with the girl weighing him down.

Slowly he placed one foot in front of the other, his boots ringing on the slick tiles as everyone held completely still. As he made his way down the path, he stared straight ahead, trying not to let their heavy, silent stares unnerve him.

A massive throne sat on a wide dais at the front. Made of shimmering black stone, its back rose many stories high, spreading out in tendrils like curling smoke. As Rion drew closer, a chorus of whispers and twitters filled his ears.

Rion kept his focus ahead, on the male High Fae with midnight-black hair and glittering dark eyes occupying the throne. He, too, wore the same strange garments, though his were more subdued, as though he had no need of ornaments to prove his worth. A snug leather top covered his neck and arms, and his pants showed off the curves and muscles in his powerful thighs. Rion saw the family resemblance immediately. Herric sat with his elbow resting on the arm of his chair as he studied Rion with cool detachment.

He exhaled a shaky breath, trying to maintain a sense of calm as Herric stared at him, his leg flung over the opposite arm of his throne, his foot swinging casually from side to side.

“So nice of you to join us,” Herric said, sweeping out a hand. “As you can see, we’ve been celebrating your arrival.”

Rion didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his stomach twisted in knots. His tongue felt like paper glued to cardboard.

“Some of us more than others,” Herric said as he then gestured to the side. Rion followed the direction, noticing the woman who knelt beside the throne with her head down and her hands folded in her lap. A dark tumble of hair fell over her face, but Rion would have known her anywhere.

His breath solidified into lead, and he nearly dropped the girl, but he clung on, determined to barter Rachel’s way out of here. After centuries of regretting his choices, Rion no longer cared about power or magic. All he wanted was her.

Herric smirked and leaned forward, placing a finger under Rachel’s chin and tipping her face up. She stared at her master, unblinking.

Rion’s heart felt like it turned to ash, burning with the ardent fury of his need. She was exactly as he remembered.

“Rachel,” he choked out, and her eyes turned to him. They were endless. Dark pools of light reflecting off a still pond under a full moon.

He felt everything in that moment: the years he had spent missing her, the mistakes he’d carried in his chest, cracking his ribs. This was his chance to start over, to finally have the life he’d given up almost three hundred years ago.

Rion wanted to toss the girl down and wrap Rachel in his arms, but he resisted the urge to give in to his desires. He had to think clearly. He had to play this wisely.

Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze away to find Herric still smirking.

“Is this who you were after?” he asked, as though he didn’t already know.

“I bring the girl,” Rion said with a knot wedged in his throat, deflecting the question .

“I see you bring someone,” Herric said. “Turn around. I want to be sure it’s her.”

Rion hesitated but then did what he asked, facing the hundreds of gawkers who continued to stare at him like he was a fresh steak tossed into a lion pit. After a pause, Rion heard the echoing click of footsteps. Before Herric could get too close, Rion swung around. He held up a hand and retreated a few paces, consciously aware of the crowd behind him inching closer.

“Stay back. I have some conditions before I release her to you.”

Herric arched a brow and lifted his hands in surrender.

“I only want to see her face,” he said. “Then you may tell me your conditions .”

Rion nodded as he waited for Herric to loop around before he lifted the girl’s hair.

“So like Amara,” he said softly. “Remarkable.”

Herric circled to Rion’s other side and returned to his dais, spinning around and falling onto his throne before crossing his legs with a flourish.

“So tell me then, what do you want?” He gestured to Rachel. “ Her , I presume?”

“Yes. I ask that she be returned with me to the surface.”

Herric threw his head back and laughed, the sound ricocheting off the cavernous ceiling until it sounded like a thousand Lords of the Underworld mocking his utter stupidity.

“The surface?” Herric asked with a gleeful spark in his eyes.

“Yes,” Rion said, squirming under the girl’s weight. He couldn’t wait to get her off him, but he couldn’t release her yet .

“But you realize she is dead.”

“Surely someone as powerful as you can rectify that.”

Herric laughed again, steepling his fingers together and studying Rion like he was a bug.

“You came to bargain with me? Are you . . . a fool?”

Rion didn’t answer, and Herric stared at him for so long that the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Suddenly, he became aware of his position. He was alone, surrounded by the dead, as they gathered behind him, creeping forward, pressing into his space.

Herric chuckled as Rion’s gaze swept around the room. He was a fool. What had he been thinking coming to the Underworld with his demands?

In his desperation, in his drunken haze, in the splinters of his broken mind, he had walked in here thinking he held any sort of power. He realized then how grievously wrong he’d played this. He’d become so used to power that he’d forgotten he would have none to speak of here.

“The ark,” he croaked. “I left it in the Keep.”

Herric’s amused expression didn’t waver.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” Rion said, once again hoisting the girl on his shoulder. It was screaming now, his entire back aching, pain radiating down through his hips and thighs. But he refused to let her go, clinging to this last hand he had to play. “You’ll release Rachel to me, and then I will send someone down to deliver it.”

Herric narrowed his eyes. “You will leave the girl here.”

Rion’s jaw clenched, wishing he could defy the order, but he heaved her up and set her on the ground. She lay at his feet, her eyes closed and her skin pale, her lips gently parted. Rion remembered the girl he’d tormented. The sound of her screams. That scar over her eye that he had been responsible for. He tried to drag up some sympathy for what he’d done, but the heirs of Heart had never meant anything to him. They had always been a means to an end.

“There,” Rion said, looking up.

“There,” Herric repeated as his eyes lit with a feral shine.

Before Rion could say anything else, he was consumed by a wall of black smoke. He hacked and coughed as it filled his lungs, choking off his air. His eyes watered, and he clutched at his throat, sure this was the end.

When the smoke cleared a minute later, he found himself in a black iron cage dangling next to Herric’s throne. Across from him was a second cage with the girl’s unconscious form crumpled at the bottom. Rion clutched the bars as it lurched from side to side.

“Let me out!” he cried as the entire room burst into vicious, taunting laughter.

Rion’s gaze rolled over the room, searching for Rachel, who remained kneeling on the floor with her head down.

“Rachel!” he called, but she stayed inert as Herric rose from his throne and bounded down the dais. A cape of black smoke formed over his shoulders, and then, from his hand, he produced the ark of Heart, holding it high over his head.

Rion felt in his back pocket but already knew it was gone.

“Rachel!” Rion screamed, gripping the bars.

Herric threw his head back and laughed again, the dark sound filtering into the fissuring cracks snaking through his bones. Herric grabbed Rachel by the hair and dragged her up. She didn’t react, even when it was apparent she was hanging by nothing but her roots. She was like a hollow porcelain doll.

“You fool ,” Herric said with a snarl. “You thought you could trick me? Come into my kingdom with conditions ?”

He shoved Rachel, and she tumbled down the stairs, rolling over until she landed on the floor in a limp heap, her arms and legs settling at awkward, unnatural angles. Rion screamed as he lunged for her, but he was trapped.

“This is my domain, king of The Aurora,” Herric said with a wicked grin as he threw the ark into the air and then snatched it in a fist.

“Welcome to hell.”