Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(27)

“Yes. But I won’t let that happen. The demons were just fucking with your head, that’s all.”

“You won’t let it happen?” I slid the backpack on. “Sounds very protective.”

He gave me a faint smile. “Long enough to get that secret out of you.”

He stood and smoothed the front of his shirt. Buttoning his coat, he walked out of the cave into the blinding winter sun.

I followed him, shielding my eyes from the bright light that glared off the icy earth.

When my eyes adjusted from days of darkness, I took in the scene before me. In the distance, a series of pikes jutted from the earth like bony fingers. On two of the pikes, human heads had been mummified.

And beyond that, a dark forest loomed for miles, the boughs and leaves glittering with ice like diamonds.

The ground felt hard beneath me, frozen.

Orion finished the apple and threw the core aside. “Rowan, why did you heal me? You could have solved all your problems if you’d simply twisted the knife. I’d be dead. There would be no oath to worry about.

You could claim the throne for yourself.”

“I have empathy, Orion. We’ve been over this concept before.”

He turned to look at me, his expression already bored. “Ah. That died with me long ago in the dungeon.” He arched an eyebrow. “But I do suppose I owe you thanks, don’t I?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you see anything from your past, Rowan?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind flashing to the horrible memory of those keys. “I saw a set of keys in my vision, and I couldn’t get rid of them. It felt like some kind of condemnation.” I lifted my arm and pulled up the sleeve. “Do you think it had something to do with this?

Something to do with being a demon?”

We passed the gruesome pikes, and the wind toyed with his silver hair. “I’m sure you have things to feel guilty for, Rowan, but being a demon isn’t one of them. We are strong, fast, beautiful. We are like gods.

And most importantly, we shouldn’t feel bad about something we can’t control.”

“The keys had something to do with Mom.” As we moved into the forest, the branches shivered, dusting my black dress with a light fall of snow. “I didn’t know my mom as a demon, even if she was one. I knew her as a mortal. She wasn’t perfect or godlike or powerful. And she got frustrated and swore and took forever to wake up. But she was the person who used to make me feel better when I was upset. You know how sometimes I get anxious?”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

I ignored his sarcasm and went on. “Well, when I was anxious at night and couldn’t sleep, she would bring me caramel tea. We would listen to this meditation story on her iPod about a nervous raven, and we would all relax together, me, mom, and the raven named Lenore. Not a goddess, the person who always made me feel better. And I can’t help feeling like I did something to put her in danger.”

I thought he was going to make another sarcastic comment or tell me I was rambling, but instead, he fell quiet as we went deeper into the woods. A vault of icy branches arched above us. After a minute, Orion, speaking so quietly that I could hardly hear him, murmured, “My mother used to sing me a lullaby when I had nightmares.”

He turned to look at me, and for a moment I, read the acute pain in his eyes.

“Anyway.” His expression cleared. “That was a long time ago.”

“What do you do when you have nightmares now?”

“Now, love, I

the nightmare.”

am

I rolled my eyes, but it wasn’t untrue.





C H A P T E R 1 5 — R O W A N

W e left the forest, and a town common spread out before us, surrounded by zigzagging fences. Cows and goats milled around, languidly chewing on grass. Hills enclosed the common, dotted by timber-frame buildings.

As I took in the shape of the roads wending around the common, I started to recognize its contours.

“I think this is Salem Village. It’s now called Danvers.” I scanned the horizon, and I pointed to a gently rolling hill. “That’s Hathorne Hill, named after one of the witch judges. Later, Danvers State Hospital was built there—a psychiatric institution rife with abuse. It’s apartments now.

But I always imagined Hathorne’s evil spirit haunted the place.”

His eyebrows rose. “How did you know all this?”

“Not much else to do in Osborne except learn the sinister history.” I glanced at a large black house that overlooked the village—a forlorn-looking building with a gabled roof and a gnarled tree behind it. “This place is creepy as fuck.”

“Rowan,” whispered Orion, “don’t speak too much here. Your accent will stand out.”

Fine with me. I’d keep my fun facts to myself, then.

As we approached a dirt road, a man on horseback rode past. He wore a tall, tapered hat and a wide-brimmed white collar. He slowed, staring at us. Suspicious. My heart fluttered a little.

A man was staring at me from several hundred years ago.

It didn’t look like Hell, but I knew what kind of dark impulses lurked in the shadows here. Like Orion had so vividly described, neighbors turned on one another. They threw each other in prisons, condemned each other to death.