Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(53)

I peered over the edge, watching him plummet into the darkness.

Unfortunately for me, he would recover.

My wings shot out of my shoulder blades, sending a sharp jolt of pain down my spine. But already, I was starting to heal.

I took off into the air, trying to think of a new strategy. My cover here was blown. I was back to square one when it came to killing the king, and my plans were unraveling.

I wondered if I should fly down to the king, pick up what was left of him, and interrogate him when he woke up. Maybe there’d be time to get to him before his soldiers identified the puddle of gore.

Circling overhead, I was overcome with a cold sense of dread. It was quiet…

too

I’m n ot w orried abou t you , love. You d on ’t h ave it in you .

I’d issued a challenge to her, and that was starting to seem like a big mistake. And maybe I’d been wrong, because I hadn’t imagined it would be possible for her to lie to me about the book. Nor had I expected her to pull a knife on me and kick me out of the underworld without her.

Alarms started ringing across the city, but they sounded dull to my ears. I soared over the ancient city of stone.

Right now, the only thing that seemed real to me was that horrible dream—Rowan telling me that she’d died. But if it wasn’t real, why did I feel her absence like a tangible thing, like it was cold soil burying me?

Why did the world seem so silent, so frozen? This beautiful city had become a tomb—an enormous dungeon.

She was dead.

Ice settled in my veins. As much as I wanted to scrape up the king’s remains, my mind was on Rowan.

An unfamiliar feeling—

crept over my skin.

fear—

What if Rowan

died beyond the veil? Maybe if I hadn’t been so h ad

hellbent on pushing her away, she’d be with me now.

You can ’t h ate someon e you d on ’t respect.

Dread chilled my blood. I’d been an asshole.

I soared over the city gates and started to head for the world beyond the veil. It would take me days to get back to her, to get through Purgatory and find out what had happened, but I wasn’t going to wait any longer.





C H A P T E R 2 8 — R O W A N

I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the darkness. I lay on frozen earth. A grave, perhaps? A few rays of silver moonlight shone on the icicles hanging from the trees around me. Not buried underground, then.

It felt as though someone had ripped out my skeleton and shoved it back in my body.

My breath came out in icy puffs. The cold air stung my cheeks and hands, and my teeth chattered. I rolled over onto my side and pushed myself up. Would I see Mom here? My vision sharpened. I was still in the underworld, which I suppose made sense. After all, I dead.

w as

“Rowan.” I jumped at the sound of my name and turned to see Tammuz, the Dying God. Star-flecked shadows slithered over his bronze skin. He took a few steps closer to me. “You’ve returned.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“I drew the mob here.” He towered over me, unnaturally tall. “I thought you needed to die.”

I was still on the ground, but I was too exhausted to stand. “Some might consider that insulting, you know.”

“You needed to die,” he said again, “so that I could bring you back to life again. It’s the only way to stop you from fearing death.”

I rose on unsteady feet. “You brought me back to life? So… I’m not dead? I can leave the underworld?”

I looked down. The dress was gone, and I was wearing leather pants, a shirt, and a warm coat with a black fur collar.

“You were right, Rowan,” he said. “I want you to have a chance at the crown. It’s no fun if Orion takes it without any competition, is it?”

He faded into the shadows and reappeared a few inches from me in a gust of cold wind. Reaching up, he touched my cheek. He had the same high cheekbones as Orion, the same sharp jaw. Thick black eyebrows. He was a god, tens of thousands of years old, but he looked no older than thirty.

“How did it feel?” he asked, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Not great, Tammuz,” I said. “Strangling to death is my idea of a

n ot

good time.” I swallowed. “But at the end, I felt like I was heading to my mom.” I waved a hand at my new duds. “How did I wind up in these clothes?”

“They grew with you from the earth.” He held my gaze and nodded.

“You were with your mother for thirteen hours.”

My jaw dropped, and I felt a wild sort of excitement. “What? Why don’t I remember it?”

“I can’t allow you to remember it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not a memory for the living,” he said with finality.

“For the living… ” I repeated, my thoughts slow and sluggish. But I’d recently died, so I wouldn’t be too hard on myself.

His eyebrow arched. “Do you know, that’s exactly how Mortana died? Your death played out the same way. You and she experienced the same death.”

I rubbed my throat. “They kept yelling at me, saying that I’d sacrificed my kin to save myself. It was like they knew what had happened with my mom.” I frowned. “I guess the same goes for Mortana.