“Should we count down?” Brennen asked. He dipped his head to peer into the water.
The three of them teetered on the edge of the shadowy body that resembled a starless night somehow, but certainly not in a comforting way since there was no bottom in sight. No direction or translucency offered. Just the promise of death whispered in pure, inky darkness.
“On three. Count it, Bren,” Destonne said. His attention darted between the determined set of Brennen’s face, and Emmery, who was desperate to rein in her terror and tie it down. Gods forbid she let her fears run rampant.
“One.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“Two.”
Oh, fuck. What had she agreed to?
Fool. She was afool.
Emmery startled as Destonne’s finger grazed the side of her hand in a silent question, and she glanced up to find him studying her. His brows creased with worry, but the certainty in his eyes steadied her. As if to repeat his words from all those weeks ago,I will never let you drown.
Their stares collided in opposite forces of black and gold. Emmery twined her fingers with his, and her fear vanished.
Because she believed him. She knew he would keep his word.
When right and wrong fail, the truth does not falter.And her truth now, whether it was right or wrong, warranted or undeserved, light or shadow, brave or cowardly, it wormed its way inside her.
She trusted Destonne O’Daire and, gods help her, despite all of his shortcomings and unending frustrations, they were friends.
Brennen’s final word echoed in her head. “Three.”
There was no going back.
They jumped into the obsidian water and it opened to swallow them as they sank within its depths.
PART II
CONVENIENTLY SHACKLED
“We thought as long as we had one another, nothing could touch us—not even death itself. But if the unwavering strength of my love couldn’t keep her here, nothing could.”
The Nameless Book
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
VESPER
Vesper’s head swam as he sank back into his body, though pain chomped away at him like a sharp-toothed prick. He couldn’t quite recall the last thing that had happened as he sifted through his memory. He slivered an eyelid, and light assaulted his eyes like a splash of salt water. He blinked against the moisture gathered in the corners.
That's when he realized why his limbs were so stiff.
He was bound to something. It was hard and cold and, oh fuck.
He was strapped to a bloodytablelike some sacrifice to the gods or a hogtied animal ready to be roasted over a spit. Rope bound his hands together beneath it, his feet tied to the tablelegs. He tugged at the rough coarse threads, but between his numb fingers and the expert knots, he couldn’t move.
Ohno.Oh no, no, no.
He still wore his leather trousers, but his knives and weapons were gone. His father's sword too. Even if by some miracle he got his arm free, he had nothing to cut himself loose with. Gnawing through the bindings like some pathetic rat wasn’t an option either since he couldn’t reach them. And the restraints twisted his arms in the most unsavoury way.
This was—shit. This was bad. So, sobad. And his tunic was unbuttoned. His scars revealed. He couldn’t quite decipher why but that meant whoever had done it saw hisShadowheart. While there were mixed opinions toward the marks, the prevailing attitude was undeniably negative. It’s not like he hadchosenit but he couldn’t exactly wash it off. He tried to call Kaida from within his mark, to get him out of this mess, but, oh gods, someone put restraints on him, too. His magic was far away, probably enjoying a fucking picnic on its time off while he was in danger.
Fear stirred in his chest. He tried to lift his head but didn’t get far before his bindings strained and pain shot through his limbs. He let his head thump back against the hard surface. His forehead wouldn't stopthrobbing.