“Go? Now?” Whirling around, she gaped at him, incredulous. The black faded from her eyes. “Where?”
“That isn’t your concern.” Admit the truth? Surely he wasn’t so foolish. She would only insist on tagging along, and he needed a break from her. The tension inside him...something was soon to shatter.
“Not my concern?” she grated. “Are you meeting someone? A certain Phoenix, perhaps, now that I’ve primed the pump?”
Speaking of Carrigan the Phoenix, he would go somewhere quiet to recharge after he dealt with the wraiths, and carefully consider what to do about her and her threat.
“Well?” Blythe prompted.
“Does it matter? You planned to find me a—what did you call it?—a bang buddy. Stay here. If you leave, I’ll consider it a breach of our agreement.”
“Breach? What breach? How? You can’t just change the rules and—”
“I can. I did. I’ll return shortly.” He flashed to Wraith Island before she could issue another half comment. Only able to transport himself to places he’d seen, he landed on the shore.
To the left and right were mountains made of stone. Between them, a valley filled with dead trees. He followed a single, open path, flashing forward as far as his eyes could see. Before long, he came to a gated drawbridge, which led to a sharp-edged palace built from glistening ebony. The top disappeared in a wealth of gray clouds.
Penelope waited at the front door, grinning. Ribbons of red hair blew in a breeze a spectral like her couldn’t feel. She’d changed clothes. Or rather, changed the image she projected. A long black gown now cinched at her waist and flared to feet several inches off the ground.
“I’m surprised you made it, Astra, considering the trap the council laid for you.”
A trap that would have succeeded if Blythe hadn’t stopped him when she had. Roux doubted he would have possessed the strength to end the encounter for any other reason. “Did you want me to fail, wraith?”
“Yes and no. I was undecided, honestly. On one hand, my followers could’ve drained you in retribution, taking you out of commission until you failed your blessing task, allowing me to keep the phantom forever. On the other, she couldn’t possibly taste as delicious as you. Or as delicious without you around to inspire her hatred.”
Yes, Blythe’s hatred. How could he forget, even for a moment?
He fisted his hands. “Let’s get this done.”
Penelope’s grin widened. “My, my, my. In such a hurry. You’d think the gaggle of females weren’t about to offer you a jolly good time.” She turned and glided inside, clearly expecting him to follow.
He did, the thump of his boots echoing off barren walls. No furniture filled the foyer. Or the hallway. Or the rooms they passed. The palace was empty. But then, wraiths had no need of such things. They rarely slept, and when they did, they simply floated around.
“Do you want a tour of the place, or shall we get straight to business?” she asked.
A grunt was his only response.
“My apologies, Astra, but I don’t speak Surly.” She tossed him a glance over her shoulder and sniffed. “Care to try again?”
“I want this done,” he snapped.
“Fine. Just know you’re missing out. The vacant bedrooms are really something special.”
Up a flight of steps they went. Wait. He thought he sensed...firstone. Roux stiffened. If the wraith had firstone in her possession, she owned the means to slay him. Not just slay him but trap him. In the presence of firstone, he couldn’t flash or utilize other abilities.
Not by word or deed did he reveal his concern, however. Instead, he memorized every detail about the castle, logging inconsistencies in the dimensions to examine at a later point. Now that he’d explored within these walls, he could return without anyone’s notice. And he would. Remaining on another plane rendered the firstone useless. Mostly.
He would come tonight, in fact. No more spending his nights with Blythe under the pretense of guarding her. She was well able to care for herself. No more watching her. Wanting her. Imagining she straddled his lap and stroking himself.
Penelope soared past double doors, entering a ballroom with a royal dais and a throne made of—Roux did a double take. The throne was made of a dozen immortals frozen in time after being drained of life, their bodies contorted in different positions to fabricate a chair.
“Ladies,” Penelope announced, “I’m both sad and happy to report tonight’s delivery service is a go.”
He pursed his lips as he surveyed the “ladies.” Twenty-two wraiths waited in a line. Bones and hair in sackcloth; that’s what they were. None had chosen a palatable form like their queen.
Hate wraiths.Before he left this realm, he would find a way to slay each and every spectral here. Had these creatures not appeared above him, bearing Blythe’s image, his harphantom would not be forced to compete in the tournament.
Behind them, twenty-three prehistoric beasts like the one-horned monstrosity who’d pushed Blythe into the arena were chained to a wall. Each animal surveyed him with ravenous, beady eyes.