The veil that separates life and death holds secrets better left unsaid. Meddling with ghosts comes at too high a cost. For every ask is a price twice the worth.The voice sings in a honey-like sweetness.
I repeat the words to Archyr, and his face twists. “You shouldn’t ask them questions. They’ll take something from you.”
I heard the words, too, but I need to know if Olivia has been down here and why. It could clue me on her death.
“Why—” I defy, looking straight at Archyr.
“Why was Olivia Corvi in the catacombs?” Archyr runs a hand over his face. “I can’t hear them, so…”
The voice chuckles like a small child this time, yet I can tell it’s the same entity.I always thought Lyria would be the first Archyr to grace my catacombs. What a surprise.
I repeat the words, and Archyr rolls his eyes. “Be quick about it.”
Nothing like his mother, this boy, the voice scoffs.
I purse my lips to hide a smile. I imagine Mrs. Archyr would have been like Lyria: kind, funny, and good-natured—nothing like the man standing before me, pressing me for answers with a glare that threatens to slice my throat.
The moment I tell him what the voice said, his eyes darken, and he steps in front of me. “You knew Mom?” he tries.
The voice drones,The wearer of the Imortalis gets a single question. Choose wisely.
“They say you only get one question,” I whisper. His eyebrows furrow, and he mutters a curse.
“Why was Olivia Corvi here?” His eyes don’t leave mine. His jaw is tight, as if he’s questioning himself for wasting his one question on me.Whydid he? My mind starts racing, pulling me in places I cannot be.
Olivia Corvi didn’t come here alone, didn’t come here seeking. I may be the guardian of the catacombs, but my lips have been sealed by magic more ancient than me.
Instead of wondering whether Olivia came here with the killer, my mind is stuck on Archyr spending his only question on me. I cannot let this debt go unpaid. I won’t let him have any leverage on me.
“Why was Sylas Archyr’s mother in the catacombs?” I blurt, wincingwhen my cuff burns, the metal searing against my skin. Archyr’s gaze cuts to me, his eyes narrowing in anger or confusion, I am not sure.
Lilyana Ronin came to retrieve something old and something gold, something that gives and something that lives.
Lilyana. The name catches in my throat; it’s so beautiful. My gaze drifts to Archyr, who looks at me as if I hold the answer he’s been waiting for all his life. Then it hits me why Nan told me that the last words of the dead were sacred. They hold the power to alter the fabric of the living. I am but a vessel, carrying messages, potentially ruining people’s lives.
I repeat the words. My debt has been repaid, and he can stop being a distraction. The sooner I find Olivia’s killer, the sooner I can leave.
“Mom didn’t always have Raiek,” he says so quietly I barely hear him. “Why would my mother trade her aspier for a Founder’s relic? They were supposed to be locked away.”
“Where are the other two Founder’s relics?” I ask without thinking, and my cuff burns again. I didn’t mean to ask the voice, I meant to ask Archyr.
Sileas Ronin’s aspier is around Sylas Archyr’s neck, the Arkani Coin is buried deep in Aurignan, and Faro’s Cuff, it drawls.Faro’s Cuff is long gone.
The voice is short now. Did I ask the wrong question? Something raw and cold rattles my bones, and I know we need to leave. For all I know, the guardian may decide to sandwich us between the walls of this chamber.
“Thank you for your help,” I say out loud, ushering Archyr out into the tunnel. The guardian’s voice grunts behind me, echoing through the emptiness ahead of us.
“Did you know that Faro’s Cuff is missing?”
He halts abruptly, the chamber a few steps behind us. I wish he’d stopped farther away, in case the guardian decides to murder us.
“This makes no sense. After the founders trapped Grimm in it, the cuff was locked away under my ancestor’s statue next to Paltro’s office, because he argued that his bloodline would never betray him by retrieving the cuff.”
“Who is Grimm?” I ask. I don’t recall seeing that name in any of Nan’s books.
Archyr shakes his head.
“Only the worst mage to come out of Gorhail. He was a Mortemagi who abused his power, murdering hundreds in the name of magical freedom.He wanted all mages to be able to use the blood arts—trade their lifeblood for magic—so we could progress as a society. But the blood arts are a slippery slope. Grimm is the primary reason magic is restricted, and after that purists lobbied DOTS for further restrictions, like requiring all crossmages to register with DOTS and seal half of their magic.”