The Abyss (Fae's Captive #7) - Lily Archer Page 0,17

its slave trade are still intact.”

Silmaran wipes her eyes with harsh resolve. “What plans?”

“Cenet wants a war to end the realms.” I sigh, suddenly weary. “He and—”

“No.” Beth stops in the middle of the stairs, her eyes fixed on Nemar and Eldra. “No!”

“Beth.” I take the steps two at a time and pull her into my arms.

She buries her face against my chest. “Tell me it’s not them.”

“I’m sorry.” I walk her down the stairs as a freed slave brings a tasseled blanket to cover the bodies. “Zatran’s work. He and Cenet. They left them on the south road.”

She looks up at me, her chin trembling despite her efforts to control it. “Why?”

“A message. A warning not to follow.” Silmaran’s eyes are clear now. “And a threat for what’s to come.”

“Zatran and Cenet—they went south?” Beth sniffles and stares at the blanket. Her despair trickles down the bond in doleful waves.

“Let’s go into the dining room.” I take her elbow.

“I’m fine.” She pushes her shoulders back, though I can see the paleness in her cheeks. “I’ll be better when we find Zatran and gut him.”

Parnon grunts his agreement, his gaze still locked on his comrades beneath the blanket.

“Gareth’s right.” Silmaran sighs and walks to him. “Come on, old friend.” She offers her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, he takes it in his massive one.

“Wash and prepare them.” Chastain speaks to one of the slaves nearest him. “A hero’s funeral for both.”

“It will be done.” The slave nods, and the rest of us funnel into the back of the large house and into a dining room with high, wide windows covered in flowy fabrics of emerald and gold.

I pull a chair out for Beth. She sits heavily and braces one arm on the table top.

Parnon closes the door behind us, his weighty steps jarring more dust loose from the fractured ceiling. When he sits on the stone hearth at the end of the room, he lets out a gusty sigh. I feel it in my bones. Yesterday was too much for all of us, and today brought even more grief. What horrors will tomorrow hold?

Chastain grabs a decanter and glasses from a sideboard and pours drinks, then hands them out to all of us.

Clearing his throat, he raises his glass filled with amber liquid. “To Eldra and Nemar.”

“Eldra and Nemar.” The words are there and gone, sucked away by the silence of loss as we all drain our glasses.

I wrap an arm around Beth. Touching her is as natural as breathing, and the bond tells me her soul is aching. If I can do anything to ease her, I will.

“Our friends should be here. We won. The city is ours.” Silmaran fights her tears and masters them. Her cheeks remain dry as she smashes her fist into the fine table. “This is their victory.”

“Zatran will pay.” Chastain puts a hand on her shoulder. “Cenet, too.”

“They’d make nice ornaments on the city gates.” Beth’s bloodlust matches my own. I want them dead and gone, sent to the Spires never to return. Cenet will always be a threat to my mate and my king, and Zatran could die a thousand deaths and still not atone for his writhing pit of sins.

“Plans.” Silmaran sits. “We have so many plans for Cranthum.” She rubs her face, her tired eyes closing for only a brief moment. “And we’ve already started the work. Last night transformed us. No more slaves. But it will take a strong hand—”

“Your hand.” Chastain sits beside her.

She tries to give him a smile, but she’s too weary and sad to make it happen. “My hand. Yes. I will hold this city together as we start a new way of life. Silmaran sees all. And we have plenty of slaves close to us that we can trust to ensure peace, civility, and a calm transition. No more of the lawlessness that reigned in the early hours.” She leans back. “Yesterday. Was it only yesterday? The bazaar? It seems so far away now. A lifetime ago.”

Chastain rises and pours us all another round. “We need this.”

“We do.” Beth agrees and tips her glass up.

“Go easy, my beloved. We haven’t eaten since—”

“I’m good.” Beth slams her glass on the table and turns to Silmaran. “I want to see them dead. I want to watch you kill them. But I can’t.” She rises, determination and regret filtering down the bond. “I’ve made a vow to Clotty, and I’m going to keep it. Gareth and I