Chapter 125

Shadow pooled beneath the hood that hid his face, and from within that darkness a pair of eyes, black as the night sky itself, looked down at Elena. Those eyes were filled with a greedy hunger directed solely at her, gleaming as though lit from within by some trembling expectation.

A few strands of glossy silver hair slipped free from the parted hood and fell forward, sliding across her face like cold threads of moonlight. His skin, exposed where the fabric sagged away, was so pale it surpassed whiteness, pallid to the point of looking like someone drained of the last drop of life.

But it was not his gaze, nor the unnatural pallor of his skin, that shocked her. It was the dense tangle of indecipherable markings covering every inch of his face.

When Azis extended both arms outward, letting them unfurl like the wings of some fluttering creature, his sleeves dropped wide and loose. His hands emerged, just as pale and just as covered in those grotesque symbols.

Elena felt a bolt of fear seize her. She had no idea what he intended to do to her. With the Emperor’s blade pressed to her throat, she could not even move and could do nothing but watch helplessly as Azis leaned his upper body closer and closer.

“Ugh,” Elena choked back a sound as the blade bit deeper into her neck. She had swallowed reflexively, just a dry gulp of fear, and in that instant her throat scraped against the edge.

“Tsk, tsk. Be careful,” Azis murmured with a thin, metallic smile. He slid his palm along the line of her neck, following the track the blade had carved.

The sting of the shallow cut was nothing compared to the revulsion that shot through her when his hand made contact with her skin.

“How much blood do we need?” the Emperor asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.

“Much… much more,” Azis muttered. He stared at his palm, smeared with the small amount of blood taken from her. “This is nowhere near enough. Barely a fraction.”

“You understand what will happen if you let her die while trying to draw blood, do you not?” the Emperor said sharply, narrowing his eyes at him.

“You are going to kill her anyway, are you not?” Azis asked, tilting his head in open challenge.

The Emperor froze for a brief moment.

“I will take only enough to keep her alive,” Azis said. “And when that is finished, you will turn her over to me as promised. I will draw the blood myself.”

He bowed deeply and extended both hands.

The Emperor glared at him for a long time, lines tightening between his brows, before reluctantly lowering the sword into Azis’s waiting palms.

He released his grip on Elena’s hair as though flinging something distasteful away and rose abruptly to his feet, stepping aside. Without his hand holding her up, Elena collapsed to one side, her body folding weakly to the floor.

Even now, with the Emperor no longer restraining her, the back of her head throbbed violently. But the ache was nothing compared to what came next.

“Guh… aaah!”

Her first breath came out like she was trying to cough up whatever was suddenly lodged in her throat, but the attempt dissolved into a scream she could not contain.

She looked down.

A long, broad blade had driven through her back and emerged cleanly from her front.

She could not breathe. She could not even try. The pain was so consuming her entire body seized up like a block of wood, stiff and immovable. Dizziness crushed her vision, making everything blur and tilt. Cold sweat soaked her clothes in seconds, soaking her skin until she felt drenched to the bone.

She held herself upright only by planting both palms weakly against the ground, fighting not to collapse.

Something bright wavered at the edge of her sight, but she could not focus. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but she forced them open, just barely, only to see Azis lowering himself into a crouch before her.

“Wha… what… are you…” Elena tried to make her unfocused gaze steady, but it was useless. Her body leaned to one side, her vision clouding like mist, and Azis blurred into a hazy silhouette.

“I warned you,” Azis said, sounding almost regretful. “I told you it would be better for you to regain your memories quickly. If you had, you would not have had to experience any of this.”

Despite the pity in his tone, he placed a wide silver bowl directly beneath the blade protruding from her body, no, beneath the steady drip of her blood sliding down the metal.

“You are… not… sane…” she breathed, the words faltering apart as her strength bled out with her.

She struggled once, twice, but she could no longer hold on. The moment darkness swept in like an abrupt nightfall, someone seized her shoulder firmly.

But she never learned who it was.

***

“What is this supposed to be?” Serin asked as he stared at the iron door before them, browned with rust to the point it looked almost like rotting bark.

“This place is the forest that borders the Imperial Palace,” he said, bewildered. “How could something like this exist here?”

He scraped away moss and vines from the wall with the tip of his sword, revealing more of the structure beneath. His expression was baffled, almost offended.

Kennard merely watched him, eyes narrowed. Serin might be seeing this place for the first time, but Kennard knew it well.

Just as Serin had said, this forest adjoined the palace grounds. Kennard had come here as a boy on hunts and walks, and Marten had always been with him. They had stumbled upon this door by chance and from there discovered the staircase within, the secret path that led straight to the Emperor’s audience chamber.

He had reported it to his father, the previous Emperor, alarmed by the possibility that intruders could exploit it. His father had immediately ordered the door sealed and the inner entrance as well.

Only a handful of people had known about it, Kennard, his father, Marten, and the two attendants who had handled the sealing.

His father was long dead. The attendants had been gone for years. Only he and Marten still carried this knowledge.

We swore we would take this secret to our graves for the safety of the Empire…

Kennard clenched his teeth covertly as he slowly turned, surveying the space behind them.

The ancient trees had grown so tall their branches tangled overhead, forming a canopy that resembled a massive cavern. Not a single ray of sunlight pierced through, yet armed knights stood in rows beneath the gloom.

Kennard almost saw, superimposed over the present, two small boys racing under those same boughs, himself and Marten, laughing as they hunted, as they played, as they lived days free of worry. Marten chattering endlessly even during hunts, bragging as he waved letters from various noble ladies in Kennard’s face.

“What should we do?” Serin’s voice broke sharply through the memory.

Kennard rubbed his temples hard, forcing away the sentiment. There was no time for nostalgia, not when Elena’s life overshadowed all else. Even if Marten was precious to him, Elena came first. If he lost her again, there would be nothing left to live for.

He looked toward the knights waiting for his order. They had left the horses tied at the forest entrance, the undergrowth here was too wild to bring them deeper.

The tracks of the carriage and hoofprints that had taken Elena were visible on the road, but Kennard had ignored that path entirely and followed the trail into the forest instead. From the moment he left Monterapiano, he had focused solely on her pheromones.

A shred of torn fabric lay on the way in. Faint droplets of blood dotted the ground. All of it held her scent.

“Shall we check inside?” Serin asked, stepping closer.

“No need,” Kennard replied.

“But should we not at least confirm what is beyond the door? Lady Elena’s pheromones lead here. She could be trapped inside.”

“There is nowhere in there to confine someone,” Kennard said. “It is only a passage to the Emperor’s audience chamber.”

Serin’s eyes widened. The knights reacted much the same.

“Your Grace… you knew of this place? Then should we not go through immediately?”

“Open it,” Kennard ordered.

Serin jerked his chin to a nearby knight. The knight approached and pushed with effort. The door groaned open with a grating shriek that echoed through the forest. The knights flinched and covered their ears.

The knight peered inside, then came back shaking his head at Serin.

“Why?” Serin demanded.

“There is only a staircase,” the knight said. “Narrow, barely wide enough for one man at a time.”

Serin turned to Kennard. “If we encounter the enemy inside, it will be bad. We could be trapped front and back without room to swing our blades.”

“Maybe that is the point,” Kennard said quietly. “Marten must have expected me to follow Elena’s pheromones. He would know I would come here.”

He turned to the forest once more and inhaled deeply. The air carried only his and his knights’ scents now. Elena’s, Marten’s, and those who had taken her were nearly faded.

He lured me here so obviously, yet made no real preparations to use the trap. Why?

Kennard frowned deeply as the pieces turned in his mind.

Time.

The cold realization crawled up the back of his neck.

The goal was not to ambush him. It was to delay him. They had counted on him refusing to take the cramped passage, predicting that even the faintest sense of danger would make him turn back.

“That bastard,” Kennard snarled.

Facing someone who knew him too well, someone who could predict his decisions, was infuriating.

“Back to the forest entrance,” he commanded sharply.

In an instant, his body shifted, fur rippling outward, limbs contorting as he transformed into a wolf. He bounded forward, scattering the knights as he passed.

Startled but quick to react, Serin and the others transformed as well and sprinted after him.