The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(85)

“Don’t do that again,” Arjun said under his breath to Celine. “Even if you are a princess of the Vale, don’t interfere with anything you see happening here. Your mother holds no sway in the Sylvan Wyld. Anything in this place will kill you with the same effort it takes to look at you. And chollima like that one”—he gestured toward the dead horse—“love to feast on mortal flesh. Don’t be deceived by their beauty.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t let it suffer.”

“I know,” Arjun said. “We’ll say a prayer for it later. After we escape in one piece.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Bastien standing to one side, his lips pressed together, his expression troubled.

“No,” Arjun said. “We don’t have time for one of your crises of conscience.”

Celine pulled her cloak around her. “And I still don’t know why we’re here in the first place.”

Arjun canted his head like his father always did when Arjun said something ridiculous. “Because you failed to ask.”

“We’re here because I wanted to meet Sunan of the Wyld,” Bastien said in a subdued tone.

“Why?” Celine pressed.

“Because he thinks this Sunan character can cure him of his vampiric ailment,” Arjun finished. Then he clapped Bastien on the back. “Couldn’t wait all night for you to spit it out, old chap.”

Celine blinked. “Is that possible?”

Only a fool could ignore the hope in her words. Poor little princess, Arjun mused. She had the rest of her overlong life to learn of disappointment in this world. Arjun was still learning, and he’d been disappointed from childhood.

“Is Sunan here?” Celine asked, her head tilting back to gaze up at the palace of ice that had once been home to the Sylvan Wyld’s gentry. A castle built to house the wealthiest blood drinkers.

Arjun raised a shoulder. “Those who dwell in this place would be the ones most likely to know where he is.” He crossed toward the largest alcove, searching for the entrance to the main hall. “Let’s find someone and get out of here before any other misfortune befalls us. Come rain or shine, I intend to return Celine to Lady Silla hale and hearty. Because even if I can’t stand many creatures in the Vale, it’s my home, for better or for worse. I don’t intend to forfeit it or my life for failing to honor a promise.”

Bastien nodded.

“Yes,” Celine agreed. “Tell us what to do, and we will do it.”

Arjun rolled his eyes. “If only I believed that to be true.”



* * *





Half an hour later, the trio passed beneath a set of smashed double doors bound in iron. The interior sconces were lit by cerulean flames. Three long tables framed three walls of the cavernous chamber. Surrounding each table were feasting creatures of all shapes and sizes. The beasties of the Sylvan Wyld. So engrossed were they in their meal that most of them did not pause to notice the three strangers standing at the destroyed entrance to what had undoubtedly been the castle’s Great Hall.

“Don’t look at what they are eating,” Arjun said softly.

Celine groaned. Above them, small winged sprites and pixies made of shattered ice danced throughout the space, chittering and waiting to steal scraps of food. Glasswing butterflies gathered on iron torches, their translucent bodies dipped in shining black ink.

“Those are poisonous,” Arjun warned. “Don’t touch them or let them land on you. The ichor on their bodies burns like the devil.” His attention caught on the figure seated at the head of the center table, a horned goblet in one hand, an iron crown atop his head, his red beard coated in small icicles.

“He looks as knowledgeable as any,” Arjun said over his shoulder to Bastien and Celine.

Celine chewed at the inside of her cheek. “Do you think he might wish us harm?”

“Without a doubt.” Bastien began walking toward the bearded man in the iron crown.

Arjun pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. “The presence of a blood drinker will likely provoke his wrath. Let me speak to him first.”

As they moved between the tables lining the chamber, whispers and growls trailed in their wake. A slithering, snakelike beast with wet hair and two voids for eyes glided into their path, pausing to glare up at them and lick its fangs. Many of the creatures slowed their feasting in order to peruse the newest arrivals.

If Arjun had to guess, they were deciding which of them to eat first. Dread coursed down his spine. If he could smell the frost and mint and magic of the Wyld on their skin, he would bet a barrelful of gold that they could smell the sunlight of the Vale on him and on Celine.

A beast with hairy ears and a mouthful of cracked teeth smacked its lips with gusto when Celine passed by. Another green-skinned hob and the white-haired phouka beside it glared at Bastien without blinking.

The man in the iron crown gestured for a horde of bat-eared goblins to fill his goblet and replenish the food on his plate, his black eyes fixed on Arjun. A blue goblin bearing an immense carafe of blood-colored wine hobbled toward him last, a pained expression on its face.

“What have you brought as a sacrifice?” he asked Arjun before Arjun could even open his mouth.

A fist clenched in Arjun’s stomach. He should have realized those in the Wyld still adhered to the old ways. Nevertheless he bowed low, his arms outstretched in a flourish. “What does the good lord desire?”