The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,20

called back into the room. “Come.”

Vincent trotted out after him, short tail wagging away.

“I guess he’s Carrick’s goat now,” Meira murmured.

Side by side, she and Samael followed the animal out into the hall.

“This is where your mother sent you?” Samael asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Rumors were right for once. In the midst of her own death, Serefina Amon had split her four daughters up and teleported them to the corners of the earth, each to a different protector. He knew Kasia had ended up in Alaska with Maul as protection. Angelika was still pretending to be part of the wolf shifter pack she’d been sent to in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain, though they now stayed with Ladon’s clan. And Skylar had gone to somewhere in the Andes Mountains with a band of rogue dragon shifters, of all things, though she remained reticent when it came to the details of who or where.

Meira’s reticence made Skylar look like an open book with audio and even a visual aid. She’d merely contended that wherever she had gone, she’d been safe.

“Do you trust him?” Samael mumbled under his breath.

She shot him an annoyed scowl, brow furrowing, and adorable with it. “That’s a silly question.”

“Is it?”

“Carrick is a friend, and I trust him.” She walked a few more steps, then muttered, more to herself, “Seems obvious to me.”

Samael held back a snort of laughter. Now where had that come from? Normally, she wouldn’t say boo to him. Maybe she was showing him the real her, a side he’d guessed only her sisters saw. Suddenly, in the most unexpected circumstances, she had him wanting to laugh, shake her, and cuddle her at the same time.

Wrong. Wrong. All wrong. Terrible idea. Their mission was the king, her mate in vow if not in deed. Samael needed to focus on that, and that alone.

His dragon violently disagreed.

He ignored the beast inside him, trying to think through all the angles. Adish, Gorgon’s beta and next in line for the throne, would get a hold of the clan, bring them in line. After he secured them a safe place to stay—here or otherwise—his next step should be contacting Adish as soon as possible and filling him in.

Carrick led them through a wending series of endless hallways, each decorated in a way that, similar to the gargoyle’s clothing, hearkened back to medieval times, and even earlier. Like with the outside and all the different styles of architecture, the inside’s decor was that of a blend of various ancient human cultures. He even spotted a few Greek columns.

A place out of time. Or of time. A reflection of the ever-changing world.

“Is this for real?” Samael said, though quietly.

“You haven’t even seen the best part,” Meira tossed at him, lips tipped in a secretive smirk.

“What’s the best part?” Now she had him distracted with inconsequential details. Did he want to know?

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

Probably they wouldn’t have time. He tucked the odd sense of disappointment away, because the sparkle of delight in her eyes had him more curious than he should be given the circumstances and surroundings. How did she do that?

You don’t do curious, he reminded himself.

The sounds of a large group gathering—the low murmurs of men, the more melodic tones of women, and the higher-pitched squeals of children, granted all with that gravelly texture—had Samael tensing long before they entered a room that reminded him of the great hall in his own mountain of Ararat in Turkey. Ben Nevis also had a similar room, used as a sort of social common room, though more for the upper classes.

A massive fireplace and hearth took pride of place at each end, incorporated into vaulted ceilings, the structures of which extended to the floors. Murals graced each section formed by the buttresses, but the paint had not faded with time like most found in human castles or fortresses these days. These were pristine and brightly colored, edged in glittering golds and silvers and coppers, the telltale sparkle of jewels decorating various spots.

The room reminded him of Russian Orthodox churches. Breathtaking.

Groupings of chairs and a few long tables formed smaller seating and meeting areas throughout the larger space. All the furniture matched the theme—heavy, wood, and ornately carved. Kings and queens, czars, emperors, maharajas, and other human royalty centuries before would have had to swallow down envy if they’d ever found this place.

The space was filled with many more gargoyles than Samael had expected. One hundred at least. Every single one of