The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 53

Chapter Fifty-Three

Tolek

“Okay, Alabath,” I exhaled as Cypherion, Malakai, and I heaved Brystin into a chair. Dax bound his wrists and ankles, the fae’s shoulder still bleeding freely with the tip of the cypher stake in it. Santorina and Celissia cleaned some of the major mess from the floor—to assist the innkeepers, Rina suggested.

I stalked toward Ophelia, carefully wiping away a lingering drop of her blood the fucking fae had drawn. My hand tightened on my dagger, but I swallowed the rage. “Tell us how this happened.”

“He broke in to steal the emblems,” Ophelia said, crossing her arms and glaring at the fae male. His blood still smeared her hands and nightgown. I lifted my dagger at the sight. But?—

The nightgown.

“You knew he was here, didn’t you?” I asked Ophelia, my eyes narrowing. Every head whipped toward us, but she merely grinned up at me as if this was one of our games.

She asked sweetly, “What makes you say that, Vincienzo?”

“Insisting on clothes before we went to sleep,” I began.

Malakai grunted, arms crossed, “I think we’re all grateful for that.”

“Definitely,” Lyria confirmed, leaning against the wall behind Brystin, her eyes trained on the fae and flooded with threats.

“I don’t know—” Barrett started to joke, but Dax cut him a harsh glare. The general flinched, hand on his stomach as he muttered something to the prince. But Mila shushed them all, stare intent on Ophelia.

“First of all,” I continued, still wearing nothing but my undershorts, “you would all be so lucky to see me naked.”

“Some of us have seen more than we care to,” Cypherion complained. “Now, continue.”

I turned back toward Ophelia, her wide magenta eyes blinking expectantly up at me. “You insisted on clothes tonight because you suspected he was going to attempt to break in. It’s why you’ve been preparing that stake, too.” I gestured to the shattered pieces of crimson-stained, ash-white cypher now atop the dresser, and Brystin grunted. “You were whittling that thing all morning, and it’s why you wanted to sleep with the curtains pulled back.”

“I’m surprised it took you so long to notice.” Ophelia smiled wider, and I’d be damned if I didn’t meet it. We made quite a pair of deviously charmed warriors, grinning across crimson-stained floors.

Until a pillow slapped into the side of my face. Ophelia laughed, but I spun, finding Jezebel perched on the bed with her ankles crossed. She shrugged a shoulder. “Slipped.”

“Baby Alabath,” I grumbled.

“Stop looking lustfully at my sister while there’s blood on the floor, and I won’t have to throw things.”

I tossed the pillow back to her, not adding that I always looked at Ophelia like that.

Jez continued, “Why did you insist on leaving the curtains open?”

I answered, still in awe of Ophelia’s mind. “Because when we returned to the room tonight, Ophelia and I had a fun time in full view of that window, and I assume she wanted Brystin to think we were vulnerable and exhausted.”

Which, truthfully, I had been. Sleeping soundly as I often did nowadays, I may not have woken if I hadn’t felt Ophelia beside me.

She nodded approvingly at me.

“Disturbing,” Jezebel said, hopping up from the bed and giving it a wary look. I didn’t bother to tell her the bed wasn’t the only place we’d been.

Ophelia turned toward Lancaster and Mora, expression hardening. “Did you two know he was here?”

“Not entirely,” Lancaster bit out, eyes trained on the splintered piece of cypher inside his comrade’s shoulder. “I scented him recently. Figured Ritalia sent him on some jaunt for her own purposes. Reconnaissance like she had me doing previously, now that I’m occupied. I knew nothing of his thievery attempt,” he sneered.

“Don’t act like you’re above it,” Brystin taunted, breaths heavy between his words. Ophelia really hadn’t been merciful. Spirits bless her, she was fucking magnificent. If I had my way, I’d clear the room of everyone else right now to show her how impressive this plan was.

No, Vincienzo , I scolded, eyeing where Jez sat, armed with another pillow. There was a fae bleeding in the middle of our floor. I’d fuck Ophelia into oblivion later.

Lancaster stalked forward and gripped the arms of the chair Brystin was tied to. “Thieves are dishonest.”

“But killers are morally fine?” Santorina interjected from the corner of the room, a bloodied rag in hand.

Lancaster flicked a gaze over his shoulder, his hair drooping in his face. “Defending him even though he would have killed your friend?”

Santorina snorted, unfazed by the bait. “Gods, no. Only wondering where the line is drawn.”

“I think the line of fae morals is not what we’re here to discuss,” Ophelia said, looking between the two of them with a creased brow.

Thieves were dishonest .

Apparently that was where Lancaster’s boundary stood. If fae really could not lie, only twist their words, was dishonesty truly the problem? Or maybe it was loyalty and trustworthiness. Trickiness against the vulnerable.

Lancaster still had that bargain with Ophelia and me. One he could use against us any day—and we him. One that if any of us broke, our lives were taken with it. And he had not tried to trick us, even when it was supposedly in his nature to do so.

In fact, Lancaster had been on Gallantia for months, and we’d heard nothing of it. He’d found and befriended Mindshaper rebels, helping us locate them during the war in the winter, but beyond that, he’d kept to himself. Hadn’t tried to hurt any innocents, besides the time he held a knife to Rina’s throat. And though I wouldn’t forget that, perhaps the damn fae was trustworthy after all?

Or it was all a trick. I supposed only the Fates could know. My gaze flicked to Vale, her eyes still swirling silver. Maybe tomorrow she could seek out the fae goddess in those readings. We could see if the Fates would finally share about her.

For now, though, we had an interrogation to get underway.

Santorina and Lancaster continued to spew barbs, but the fae male pushed up from Brystin’s chair and took a step back, crossing his arms. “Did she send you?”

“Of course,” Brystin scoffed.

“Why?”

But Brystin’s gaze swiveled to Ophelia. “Do you care to fill him in?”

She assessed him, looking right down her nose with those bloody fingers drumming on her arm. “Your queen doesn’t trust me.”

A grin. “Not in the slightest.”

“She’s smart, then,” Ophelia retorted.

And it wasn’t a joke. Both Ritalia and Ophelia were too wise to easily trust the other. Not without proof. Even when you could not lie, word only went so far. Ritalia, ruler for centuries and manipulator of secrets, likely guessed as much.

“She realizes this won’t make us any more likely to give her what she wants doesn’t she?” I asked.

“Her Majesty has grown unconcerned with a peaceful partnership, so long as she gets the outcome she desires.”

My skin prickled at that vague explanation, gaze cutting to Lancaster and Mora. The former’s attention was still locked on the fae bound before us, but Mora watched Ophelia curiously. Almost…admiringly?

“What’s changed?” Ophelia asked harshly.

“Who said anything has?” Brystin smirked, still as casual and unaffected as always. “Perhaps this has always been her plan.”

Lancaster and Mora exchanged a brief, confused look, and Cypherion tracked it. “It wasn’t.” He looked to Ophelia. “Ritalia is pivoting. Otherwise, she would have had Lancaster and Mora steal the emblems.”

The former snapped, “I wouldn’t sink?—”

“Shut up,” Ophelia barked, looking among all three of the fae. “I’m not sure I trust any of you right now. We might be better off impaling you all with cypher stakes and leaving you locked in this room.”

“Sweet Mystique,” Mora cooed, “you’d have to prepare those lovely weapons first.”

Ophelia flashed her a saccharine smile. “Who says I haven’t already?”

She very well could have them hidden in this room somewhere. I hadn’t realized she tucked the one beneath our pillows tonight.

But Ophelia only waved a hand at Mora and Lancaster. “You two may stay for now since you’ve been genuinely helpful, but we’re watching you closely.” As she said it, the energy in the room shifted. None of us moved closer to the fae, but it was like everybody angled slightly, every hand drifted closer to a weapon. On the word of the Revered, any of us—Mystique, Soulguider, Starsearcher, or Engrossian—would strike.

“What I’m curious about, Brystin,” Ophelia continued, turning back to the male, “is why you’re here now . You’ve been trailing us since we left Valyn.” One blink was all that belied his shock, but Ophelia didn’t miss it. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. My pegasus was unsettled, and I thought I saw you in the pleasure house last night. So briefly, I wasn’t sure who it was, just someone familiar.”

“Was it you?” Jezebel blurted, striding forward. “Did you kill that warrior?” Her question landed with a heavy silence.

“It wasn’t a warrior,” Brystin grunted.

“That’s a yes,” I confirmed.

Brystin smiled. “I started it. I did not strike the final blow—I don’t know how she died.”

No one said anything—none of us dared look at Jezebel—but she shrank back beside Erista who whispered soothing words to her.

“But why did you act now?” Ophelia asked, returning us to the topic at hand. “Before we have the final emblem. You want to steal them, do you not? Surely, having all seven would be more useful.”

“Having six would be enough.” He did not technically disagree with what Ophelia claimed.

“Curious,” Ophelia mused. “I suppose they’re useless to Ritalia no matter how many she has.”

“Useless?” Malakai asked.

“No Angelcurse. No Angelblood. The fae queen is nothing but a futile statue in this prophesied fate. Perhaps she doesn’t need to wait for all of the emblems.” Ophelia scratched at the blackened veins from her Curse scar. “She just doesn’t want me to have them.”

Cypherion, still standing defensively near Brystin, echoed the earlier point, “Something in the queen’s hand has changed. Something that means she does not want to wait.”

Ophelia maintained her controlled mask, but a bead of nerves bubbled in her searching stare. “Or she can’t wait.”

Mora chimed in, gently massaging her injured shoulder, “She would only adapt her plans in extreme circumstances. In her centuries, the queen has learned to be very patient.” Why was she giving us that information?

“What could she have discovered?” Ophelia asked, and Brystin scoffed. Ophelia stiffened at the noise, an instinct snapping as sharp as a bolt of lightning. She sighed, striding across the room to where her weapons lay. “Very well, then.” She picked up her dagger. “Would someone else like the honor of convincing him to speak?”

“Say the word, Alabath,” I said eagerly. That fucker broke into our room while we slept, drew Ophelia’s blood.

“Wait!” Lancaster blurted, turning to Brystin. “Did she give you any rules?” Brystin remained silent. “If they harm you, are you to do something?”

That had both Ophelia and me freezing. That fucking queen… She’d given all her soldiers cleverly worded orders, things they could not deny, likely woven into bargains. Instructions on how to react, pulling their strings even from far, far away.

Brystin jerked toward Lancaster, hissing as pain shot through his shoulder. “Why are you helping them?”

“I am not.”

“You have orders.”

“Orders that nearly got my sister killed,” Lancaster sneered. “Oh, but thank the Goddess that wasn’t allowed. Not like that put her through excruciating pain.”

Brystin looked over Mora, who, despite her pale face and shadowed eyes, glared back at him. “She is fine.”

“No thanks to our queen,” Lancaster spat. “Now, is there a stipulation bargain if you are caught and tortured?”

Brystin’s silence rang through the room.

“Answer enough,” I said, shrugging and grabbing my sword. “We’ll simply kill him then.”

Mora disarmed me impossibly fast. “Never play a game in which you don’t know all the rules.”

Anger roiled through me at having my weapon taken. I stepped up to her. “Good thing I don’t lose.”

But it was Ophelia’s voice—small, soft, and meant only for me—that drifted through the room. “Tolek…” A hand on my arm.

Her mask was dropped as she looked up at me. Here, in front of everyone, a bit of her uncertainty shone through. She ignored the audience, silently pleading with me to be with her. To play the game and survive to scorch the Angels.

I sighed, backing down a step from Mora and placing a kiss to Ophelia’s forehead. Then, with an apologetic but taunting smirk, I added to the fae female, “I’d appreciate my weapon back.”

She extended it. “Don’t be stupid. It is unbecoming.” The tension in the room cracked at her words.

“He doesn’t die, then,” Santorina said. “Unfortunately.”

“The beautiful Bounty Queen has a bite,” Brystin joked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Rina snapped without looking at him.

Lancaster grumbled, “Despite his aggravating presence, it is my advice that he is not harmed further than he already has been.”

Ophelia evaluated him. “Fine. But we’re moving tonight. Now.”

“Where?” Jezebel blurted, shooting up.

I was already gathering weapons and belongings as Ophelia strode for the bathing chamber, hopefully to wash that blood from her hands.

Ophelia’s voice drifted over the splashing water. “Ritalia has plans. We don’t know what they are, but I’ll be damned if she catches us unaware again.” Emerging back into the room with a drenched towel scrubbing at her skin and water sprinkling her nightgown, Ophelia added, “We’re going to find the Soulguider emblem.”

“And you know where that is?” Malakai asked.

“And we have to leave now ?” Barrett added, gesturing to the pitch-black sky.

“I’ve been working it out since the pleasure house, and yes, we do. The Storyteller said where all dead and riddled secrets lie .”

“Not catacombs again,” I nearly whined, but continued preparing, because Ophelia was on a mission, and I’d follow her anywhere.

“Those precise words had to be important,” Ophelia said.

“What about sphinxes?” Mila asked. “They have to be connected somehow, but the Storyteller didn’t say anything of them.”

“No,” Malakai gasped. “But she did say something about a place where legends rest. She said she couldn’t tell us anything of it.”

“What did you ask her?” Erista asked.

“About gates,” Malakai said. “Lucidius’s journals mentioned some gate he visited, and the Storyteller referred to it as where legends rest.”

“Sounds a lot like where all dead and riddled secrets lie ,” I added.

Malakai looked to Erista. “Is it to the city?”

“No.” Erista grinned. “It’s not a city border. I think we need to visit the Gates of Angeldust.”

And that title…I’d heard it before. “Is that?—”

“Galleries dedicated to the souls my people lead along the way, reliquaries for blessed items, and the hearts of replenishment of the streams across our land? It is indeed. There are a handful across the territory, one not far from Lendelli.” Erista’s eyes glowed as she put together pieces. “And framing the gates of the archaic building are carvings. Very rough recreations, barely accurate, but some call them the riddled sphinxes.”

Ophelia grinned, a mix of exhilaration and worry in her expression. “We leave immediately. I don’t care that it’s late.”

Shame we wouldn’t have time to finish cleaning the bloodstained rug.