Underlord (Cradle #6)(14)

She let out a heavy breath as the space appeared, her face suddenly hotter than before. She was both relieved and somehow disappointed, but she didn’t examine either emotion too closely. She shoved them to the back of her mind, where she determined to forget them.

Instead, she focused on the most shocking aspect of this whole situation: “Where in heaven’s name did you get a void key?”

It was like looking into a closet that hadn’t been there before. A closet containing Lindon’s belongings; she recognized the box he’d once kept his Thousand-Mile Cloud in, but most of the rest of it was new to her. The space was packed with jars, bottles, and vials of all shapes and sizes, though they looked like he’d scavenged them from a trash heap. Little Blue stared at her from within a bundle of firewood, and there was a bone-handled axe leaning up against the wall.

Lindon hurriedly held up a hand, keeping his voice low. “The script doesn’t stop sound. Could you grab that closest jar for me?”

Close to the opening, beside Yerin’s feet, was a clay jar covered in hastily painted scripts that looked similar to the one Lindon had carved into the door. She bent down and scooped it up, and then the portal instantly vanished.

Without instructions, Yerin pulled the lid off of the jar, and Lindon didn’t say anything to stop her. Blue light rushed out from within, and she sensed the rich power of a high-grade elixir.

Her eyes widened, and she dipped a finger in, pressing a drop to her tongue.

It tasted like sweet spring water, but the energy within was enough to shock her spirit into action. It nourished her soul directly, her madra rushing through its channels.

“I don’t know what Naru Gwei would do if he sensed this,” Lindon said. “And Mercy…well, I don’t know her too well yet.”

“This…” she wasn’t sure she had the words. “This is like something my master would drink. With a sword to my throat, I couldn’t even guess how much this is worth.”

It took her another second to remember that she’d seen more bottles inside the void key.

Lindon’s eyes sparkled at her reaction, but he pretended to be casual. “It’s yours. As far as I’m concerned, you can drink everything I brought out. I had much more than this in Ghostwater.”

Yerin pushed the jar back at him. “I’m not too polite to take a gift, but this is brainless. You’ve got two cores to fill, and one of them is still Highgold.”

“That’s why you should have it. If you got the same chances I did, you’d be Underlord by now.”

A second later, he cleared his throat and added, “Besides, I doubt you’ll need all of it. Once you reach the peak of Truegold, I can still drink whatever’s left.”

Yerin slowly replaced the lid, unwilling to meet his eyes. She was ashamed of the tracks her thoughts had taken before he’d shown up; only a few weeks by herself, and she started thinking like she was alone again.

“Will it not work for you?” he asked anxiously. “I thought it would, but I couldn’t be sure. Did the Sword Sage give you something better?”

Yerin ran a hand over her face as though to check what expression she was making. “No, sorry, my brain had run off without me. Had to pull it back.” She slipped the jar into her outer robe—it was a little big for her pocket, so it would bulge out, but it wouldn’t be a problem as long as she didn’t fight. “You know I’ll put it to good use.”

His face relaxed into a smile. “Good! I was—well, never mind, that’s good! Don’t get too comfortable, though. I won’t let you get too far ahead of me.”

“I know you won’t,” she said.

And to herself, she added, I won’t let you.





Chapter 3





In his Imperial palace at the heart of Blackflame City, the capital of the Empire, Emperor Naru Huan stood in a courtyard looking into the sky. He wore his full Imperial regalia, from the intricate crown on his head to the dragon-adorned layered robes that hung from his shoulders. Emerald wings spread behind him, shimmering in the setting sun.

An Emperor’s appearance was important. He exercised daily to keep his body firm and toned—a straight back and broad shoulders showed strength. His beard was neatly trimmed and close to his chin, and his gaze was level and piercing. He had been trained for most of his life to project strength in everything he did.

To his left, his first wife was radiant in robes that complemented his own. The smile on her face looked effortless and natural, but the way that she repeatedly lifted her hand to adjust her hairpin revealed her nerves. He wished he could calm her, but he was in need of some comfort himself.

Two Skysworn in full green armor stood behind them, spears at the ready, Truegold souls unveiled. Today, they were nothing more than marks of his status. He was the strongest sacred artist in this quarter of the continent, but his visitor could obliterate them all as easily as lifting her hand.

Behind the Skysworn were his contingent of four normal guards, all Truegolds themselves, as well as forty ministers, councilors, and advisers. Servants stood to the sides, carrying pitchers of wine or trays of food in case they were called upon.

Their half of the courtyard was packed, but no one crossed the invisible line separating the other half. That was reserved for their visitor.

No one wanted to accidentally offend the Sage of the Silver Heart.