Delphine made a sign Haven had already learned. Crap.
Surai was teaching Haven the Seraphians’ unique sign language in the mornings. It was yet another thing to help pass the time, but she also wanted to be able to communicate with the Seraphians who couldn’t speak.
But surely Haven misread the sign. “I’m sorry, what?”
A few of the Seraphians chuckled.
Grinning, Delphine performed the sign again, the downy feathers along the base of her wings fluttering in the light breeze.
There was no confusion this time as Delphine performed the sign for excrement.
Fantastic.
The others were watching her to see if she balked.
So she drew a rudimentary rune to block the stench, rolled up her pants and sleeves, and began shoveling the excrement into the pre-dug holes.
It was mind-numbing work, but after an hour of working without complaint, there was a respect in Delphine’s expression that wasn’t there before. Haven even talked Delphine into teaching her a few snappy phrases.
The next time Stolas popped off with that smart mouth, she would surprise him with a comeback in sign language.
When they were finished, sweat had turned the black dirt covering her arms into sludge, and she desperately needed a bath. But she was meeting Nasira at the guarded entrance to the caves beneath the palace, and she was already late.
A deep purple gilded the clouds as night fell. Thanks to Delphine, Haven wasn’t that late as she trudged down the slippery rock path to meet Nasira. The caves were hidden behind a sheltered cove, the entrance guarded by a gate so rusty it looked one touch away from crumbling to dust.
Not very impressive. Then again, it wasn’t the corroded bars that kept intruders from passing beyond the threshold. It was the promise of having one’s insides incinerated by Netherfire and burning alive that did the trick.
Nasira was perched on a small nearby ledge, throwing pebbles into the jade green water below. No one was allowed inside the vaults by themselves, even Stolas. The threat of someone getting their hands on the Godkiller was too great not to take every precaution.
She shivered. Even miles below the earth, she could feel the dark weapon’s cold sentience. That odd prickling evil seeping from its tomb like pus from a wound. Hinting at something corrupted, something ancient and twisted and malignant beneath the surface.
Inhaling through her nose the way Stolas had taught her, she took several cleansing breaths. That horrible wrong feeling would only get worse the deeper they plunged toward the demonic dagger.
Nasira, on the other hand, looked completely at ease as she toyed with the fish below, ignoring Haven. After finally tiring of her game, she hopped from the ledge and approached.
Her pert nose wrinkled. “Why do you smell like a pig pen?”
Haven sighed. There was no question Nasira was loyal to Haven, but that’s where their relationship ended. Haven was a little embarrassed to admit how the girl’s cold demeanor stung. On the ship here, Nasira had seemed ready to trust Haven.
But when they arrived everything had gone back to the way it was before. If anything, Nasira’s dislike for Haven had grown over their weeks here, if that were even possible.
Haven found a small pool of water and began rinsing the muck from her hands. “I was working, Nasira.”
“Inside a waste bucket?”
Gritting her teeth to prevent saying something she’d regret, Haven dried her hands on her shirt and nodded to the entrance. “Ready?”
She wanted to get this over with. They all rotated on a schedule between the Chosen. Two people checked on the Godkiller in the morning and two in the evening. Considering it was the most powerful weapon in existence, and it was connected to the Shadeling, they had to be extra cautious.
Nasira entered first. Flattening her wings against her body, she drew the gate open with her magick and disappeared inside. Haven shuddered as she crossed the threshold and felt the sharp prick of the ward rake her entire being.
The sensation was extremely uncomfortable and always left her nerves achy and sensitive for hours afterward. Her lips curled at the dank stench of mud, stagnant water, and ancient magic.
Two hours. Then you’ll be with Stolas. That was the only part of the day she looked forward to.
Goddess Above, please see fit to allow me time to shower before then.
Plucking a runelight torch from the cave wall, she darted down the spiraling stairs carved into the stone. Nasira’s light bobbed around the curve. Pale blue runes flickered beneath Haven’s boots. The protective magick inside each