Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(6)

C H A P T E R 4 — R O W A N

I t was like I’d been drowning and had finally come up for air. As soon as I crossed the threshold into the City of Thorns, I felt the healing shimmer over my limbs.

I lay on the brick, the magic already starting to replenish in my body. The wounds in my side were knitting, and the bullet was working itself out of my thigh muscle, but I didn’t want to lie here forever. It seemed mostly empty here, but I could hear a few demons talking nearby. If I were seen, word would quickly get back to Orion.

I stood, trying to get my bearings. I hadn’t come through the main gate before. When I’d entered the city before, I’d been unconscious, and I’d left half-delirious through a tunnel system.

For the first time, I surveyed the city’s entrance, a little stone courtyard I’d wondered about for many years. The entire place—the streets, the alcoves, the ornate turrets—was built of the same beautiful honey-colored stone as the exterior walls. Across the courtyard, a castle loomed. A carved lion overlooked enormous wooden doors, crisscrossed with iron and studs.

In the other buildings around me, arched windows overlooked the courtyard. Narrow alleys jutted off from the square—some with stairs that continued farther up the hill, some with stone walkways overhead.

Luckily for me, it was raining heavily, and almost no one was out tonight.

I stumbled toward the narrowest alleyway, finding it dark and abandoned. Rain pattered down, and thunder boomed.

As I walked, I ran my finger over the deep, fresh scar in my side.

The wound didn’t hurt at all, but it hadn’t healed as much as I’d expected.

I kept moving until I found a small, dark garden with a fountain, like a tiny public park. Water flowed from stone serpent mouths, and ancient-looking runes had been engraved along the side of the fountain.

Pale pink roses grew around it, scenting the air with their sweet perfume.

Looking for the driest patch, I curled up in the grass under a bench.

I hugged myself, imagining a warm bed, and listened to the gentle sound of running water.

My eyelids grew heavy. Back in my true home once more, a blanket of sleep swept over me.

I AWOKE in the little rose garden with my clothes drenched. Best I could figure, I’d slept for an hour or two, and the rest had done me good. I felt better than ever, completely energized, and ready to take on the world. Did I like having demon magic? Hell, yes. I never wanted to leave this place again.

I exited the courtyard and found my way out of the network of alleys, reaching the river. As always, the air in the city was warm and humid, but the rain had kept the streets mostly clear. Nevertheless, I lurked in the shadows as I walked, not wanting anyone to notice me as I made my way back to my parents’ house.

I followed the river east through the Sathanas Ward, filled with buildings adorned with carvings of monstrous heads and empty temples to the demon of wrath. Passing a windowless jail with an enormous iron door and a scaffold for executions, I soon reached the Asmodean Ward, the quarter once inhabited by the Lilu. At the easternmost edge of this section, the buildings thinned, and the river branched off into tributaries.

There, I found my parents’ dark mansion. It stood on flat ground against the river. Gothic gardens spread all about the property. Mist twined around a crumbling stone wall that surrounded part of their land and billowed around the mansion itself.

I swallowed hard as I entered the outermost edge of the gardens and made my way down a gravel walk, meandering between broken statues and thorny plants.

Wind howled through gnarled tree branches on either side of the path, and the scent of the nearby sea hung heavy in the warm air.

My feet crunched over the wet pebbles. I glanced up at the gargoyles, visible now through the fog. All I really knew about this place was that Mom had lived here, and Mortana, too, long ago.

And that Mom’s husband might have burned to death right where I was walking now. He was my dad, or so I assumed.

A tragic presence clung to the fa?ade, and I shivered, looking back at the place where a burned body had been found. Another indication, I mused, that it wasn’t me who’d killed Mom. Maybe not the Hunters, either, since they couldn’t enter the city.

A buried, molten anger rose to the surface, a searing heat that burned my forehead. Before me, rays of light tinged the mist with gold.

A gust of wind blew the fog away, and when I looked down, I saw it— the symbol that had haunted my nightmares for years—the six-pointed star reflected in a puddle.

My heart beat faster. A memory buried in the recesses of my mind stirred, but I didn’t want to see it.

An eerie, forlorn wind rushed over me as I climbed the steps.

Crossing between the columns, I paused with my hand on the front door.

When we’d come here a few days ago, Orion had said that the City of Thorns wasn’t like the mortal world. Here, the air was imbued with magic, and memories lingered tangibly. Tragedy wrapped itself around the wood and marble, hanging like a bitter, heavy miasma. The hair stood up on my nape.

The door was still open a crack from the last time we’d run out of here—when I’d fled the building. I pushed it open wider and stepped inside, standing once more among the cobwebs and smashed busts of my relatives. Sighing, I glanced up at the high ceiling adorned with faded paintings of vines and ripe fruit.

Eerie, yes, but I was glad to be here alone. This time, I could explore without Orion looking over me.