“My love, please,” he croaked.
My love?
Before I could form one of the many questions swimming in my mind, Neya growled. “You should not be down here, Kaelia.”
She crossed the distance in a blur of white, her grip like a tight band around my arm. She dragged me away from the cell with a strength that brooked no resistance, her eyes never leaving Xylos even as he shoved his thick arms through the small gap, clawing at the air as if to reach for the hem of her cloak.
“Wai—” I started, but she cut me off with a lethal glare causing me to sigh. “I just want to ask him a few questions.”
“Absolutely not. You have done more than enough damage just by coming down here,” she seethed. “I doubt Talon gave you his consent.”
I stopped walking, my body locking up at the truth in her comment, and tugged my arm back. “Let me go, Neya.”
“No, and if you wish for me to keep this from Talon, you will start walking.”
The thought of Talon discovering my betrayal turned my blood to ice.
I screwed my eyes closed and let her drag me away from the cell and into the winding corridors.
Xylos’s voice followed us as we exited. “Neya!”
She flinched, her nails digging deep into the soft flesh of my arm until I winced, but she did not look back.
29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Iflicked a piece of steamed rice with my fork, pushing it through the glossy sauce until it vanished under the swirl of black.
Xylos, centuries later, still sat in a cage.
It was beyond cruelty.
I could not fathom how all of these people could sit here and fork their beans while a man rotted beneath their feet as though his suffering had become part of the architecture.
A sour taste coated my tongue. I would never be able to live with myself knowing I could have helped an innocent and failed to act.
My chest tightened with a heat that burned too fast and I stabbed a forkful of black beans with more force than necessary. The scrape of metal against obsidian shrieked into the cavernous hall, but not a single head turned.
The table stretched endlessly, a slab of igneous rock polished to a black sheen. Around it, the Veythar sat in their positions of power. Their gazes slid away from me, lingering instead on the wall carvings, the glowing veins of fungi overhead, or the untouched food on their plates.
Anywhere but my face.
The silence lingered, heavy enough that I became acutely aware of my own breathing.
Talon placed his fork down with care, the soft clink echoing unnaturally loud in the quiet. His jaw worked slowly before his eyes lifted, the molten depths fixed entirely on me.
Even the lumengems seemed to dim in his gaze.
“Little flame,” he rumbled. “Is something wrong with the food?”
“No, Master,” I said, drawing the title out. “The food is fine.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles corded and tight beneath his skin. “Your tone suggests otherwise, Kaelia. You sit at a table of power. Please be mindful of the respect this hall demands.”
My temper flared, but beneath it, hurt and the quiet sting of betrayal twisted.
“And what have I earned from this table? Other than half-truths and silence?”