Ash slid off the dragon’s back and held out a hand to Piper. She jumped down, letting Ash catch her and set her on the ledge. Tenryu rustled his wings irritably, huffing a half-snarl at the draconian guards. The dragon was calm enough around just Ash and Piper, but the presence of other draconians had soured his mood. Bad memories, perhaps?
A loud, frantic squeal pierced Piper’s ears. Zwi came charging out of the crevice, chittering nonstop as she leaped for her master. Ash scooped her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her mane as she mewled and squeaked in a mixture of delight and distress. His absence hadn’t been hard on only Piper.
Seiya and Lyre hurried out after Zwi, followed by Raum. The older draconian’s steps hesitated as he neared the dragon but he trailed after Seiya and Lyre into Tenryu’s shadow. As Ash and Raum clasped arms in greeting, Piper looked around again, unable to see a thing beyond the faint glow of her light spell.
“Is this really their city?” she asked Seiya.
“Well, ‘city’ is a relative term. There’s a lot more space here than there are draconians. There are multiple hidden entrances and most of the city is inside the mountain.”
“I hear you plan to attack Asphodel,” Raum said to Ash.
Ash raised his eyebrows. “I may have mentioned that.”
“Before or after putting one of their warriors in the dirt?”
“Do you disagree?”
Raum’s mouth twitched in what might have almost been a smile.
Ash shrugged. “What’s done is done. All that matters now is what they choose.”
“Well, they’re ready for you, so you won’t have to wait long.”
Ash glanced at Tenryu—communicating a thought, most likely—before striding across the ledge into the shadowy crevice. The guards jumped to follow him. Piper took a couple steps, then realized Lyre, Seiya, and Raum weren’t following. Before she could ask why they were just standing there, Tenryu rumbled, rustling his wings. The sudden movement made the other three jolt away from him.
You are in the way.
She blinked at Tenryu and realized he wanted to lie down and rest on the rocky ledge.
“Come on,” she said to the trio. “Tenryu wants to stretch out and take a break.”
Seiya gave her a strange look and led the way into the narrow, natural-looking crevice in the rock. On the other side, a smooth-sided corridor stretched into the solid mountain. Tiny lights that scarcely interrupted the darkness dotted the walls, but it was enough to see by so she extinguished her light spell.
Once they were inside, Seiya stopped again. “How do you know what the dragon is saying?”
“You can’t hear anything?” When they all shook their heads, Piper shrugged. “Sometimes he speaks to me, but I don’t know why I can hear him.”
Seiya and Raum exchanged a look.
“Before we catch up to Ash,” Seiya said, “we want to know … how is he?”
“How is … Ash?” Piper echoed. “He’s fine.”
They traded another look.
“He seems like himself?” Lyre asked.
She frowned. “Well, the experience with Tenryu has changed him a bit, but … what are you getting at?”
“He wants to attack Asphodel,” Raum said. “We weren’t sure how much of that is his idea and how much is the dragon’s.”
“Oh.” She tried not to get offended on Ash’s behalf; the others didn’t know everything she did. They hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ash yet. “Tenryu has his own reasons, but this is Ash’s plan—and he’s right: this is our only chance to bring down Asphodel.”
Lyre nodded and the stiff tension in Seiya’s shoulders lessened. Raum gave Piper a long, searching look—not entirely convinced?—then stepped away, leading them down the hall. With a final glance at the other two, she followed. The stone corridors twisted and turned in an endless maze, interrupted by doorways filled with curtains or sliding wooden doors. She could discern no rhyme or reason in the layout of the halls. How did anyone find their way?
“It’s a deliberate maze,” Seiya said, noticing her growing disorientation. “To confuse and slow down invaders.”
“Oh.” She glanced around again. “The ancient city Ash and I visited wasn’t like this. You could see the balconies all over the mountains and there were no mazes.”
Seiya shrugged. “This city is on the border of what was once Taroth territory, so it was built to be highly defensible. Maybe they didn’t think the other one needed to be secure in the same way.”
If they hadn’t, it had been a shortsighted decision, seeing as how the draconians who’d lived there had been slaughtered by an invading Hades army. She was surprised that draconians tolerated living this deep in the mountain; they didn’t like enclosed spaces all that much. Good thing the halls and rooms she’d glimpsed were spacious.
Raum rounded yet another indistinguishable corner—how did he know his way around so well already?—and walked into a large, open room. It had the distinct geometric carvings decorating the walls and pillars as the other draconian city, but the table and chairs in the center were simple, unpolished wood. Ash stood in front of the table already, Zwi perched on his shoulder. A dozen older draconians stood around the other side, the low-backed chairs ignored.
Eliada stood at the forefront of the group, watching Ash with her cutting teal-blue eyes.
Ash stood unflinching under all their scrutiny, one hand hooked on the hilt of a sword at his hip. As Piper approached with the others, her eyes swept over him and her heart gave a little leap of desire. He was magnificent, mysterious, terrifying. Standing before the draconian elders, even though they were supposed to be the leaders of the draconians, his aura of confidence and command was unmistakable. Somehow his gray irises, threaded with azure light, demanded that any who fell under his gaze acknowledge his authority. A feeling whispered in the air, a weight pressing down—power settling over them, sizzling in the air like a storm about to be unleashed.
Her steps faltered. She had felt the whisper of that same kind of power under the gaze of a different daemon. Compared to Samael’s, Ash’s aura of command was mild, but there was no denying what it was: The power of a warlord. His birthright. Whether the elders realized it or not, Ash would become their ruler.
Eliada placed her hands on the tabletop, her eyes locked on Ash. “We have discussed your proposal in depth. Our decision is thus: we will not go to war on Asphodel.”
Piper’s stomach plunged but she wasn’t sure what emotion she felt most strongly.
“Launching an attack in the heart of Hades, against their well-defended capital and military barracks, is too great of a risk, even with the great dragon’s power. Our numbers are too small and our warriors are too valuable. Even if we win—which we don’t believe is possible—we would likely lose so many warriors that we would be defenseless against a counterattack.
“Furthermore, Hades’ vendetta against us would be more fierce and vicious than we’ve ever experienced. They would destroy us utterly. If we retreat now, we have a chance to survive. If we attack Asphodel, we will surely perish.”
When Eliada fell silent, Ash simply stared at her. Analyzing. Judging. The elders were practically squirming where they stood when he finally spoke.
“You’re right.” His voice, though quiet, filled the room. “The risk is high. The odds are against us. The enemy is powerful.
“But you’re wrong that if you retreat, you’ll have a chance to survive. You won’t. Retreating now will complete the death of our caste that began with Nyrtaroth’s demise. Our strength fades even faster than our numbers. You’ve lost the will to fight. You’ve lost the essence of who, and what, we are.”
The hint of blue in his irises grew more pronounced. “You are afraid to fight to save us, but your warriors aren’t. They saw victory in that valley. They saw power and strength. They saw a glimpse of who we were and what we can be. You can choose to hide and fade to nothing—if Hades doesn’t hunt you down first—but I w
ill not. And when Tenryu and I call your warriors to follow us to war, they will.”
Eliada’s face went white.
“They will choose to fight,” Ash said. “They will win their freedom from Hades or die fighting for it.”
“Our warriors would not abandon their families to follow you to their deaths,” Eliada said hoarsely. “They won’t follow you.”
“When Tenryu and I go to Asphodel,” he said, “they will choose to fight alongside me—to fight for their families instead of another futile attempt to hide. You can lead your warriors, prepared and organized, into this battle with me, or you can stand aside. It’s your choice.”
The silence that fell over the room was thick enough to suffocate. After exchanging terse looks with the other elders, Eliada let out a shaky breath.
“Then you leave us no choice, Ashtaroth.” Another harsh exhale. “We will go to war.”
Piper hung back with Lyre and Seiya, watching as the elders took seats at the table and Ash and Raum sat across from them. They discussed preparations and Ash shared the information he’d gathered in Asphodel.
As her eyes moved from the elders to Ash, a tightness spread through her chest—a strange mixture of dread and sorrow. What she’d barely begun to realize when he’d told her about wanting to help the draconians was becoming painfully clear. She could see it now:
His path diverging from hers.
What had begun with Tenryu’s first attack was coming full circle as he fully shed the skin of a former Hades slave. He wanted to help the draconians, but he would do far more than that. He was rising to take his place as a leader, to claim his birthright. And together with Tenryu, he was starting down a road that would take him places she couldn’t even imagine.
And it was a road where she couldn’t follow him.
She pressed her hands together in front of her, hoping no one would notice the tremble of her limbs. She was losing him. It had already begun. In a way, Tenryu was responsible, but only as the catalyst. She was certain that Ash’s instincts and honor would have eventually led him to this place, to this road, but maybe not quite so soon. Maybe they would have had more time together before their paths diverged.
But their paths would diverge. What place could she, an Overworld haemon, have here? Would she follow Ash as nothing but an unneeded tagalong? Trailing after him while he walked the roads to greatness? She was sure he would. Assuming any of them survived the coming war on Hades, Ash was destined for greatness. She wasn’t.
She bit hard on her lower lip, reining in her emotions before they ran out of control. One day at a time. That’s what she’d promised herself. Their last day wasn’t here yet.
Ash pushed his chair back, breaking into her emotional battle with herself. His gaze paused on her, a frown flickering across his face as he caught a hint of her upset, but his attention focused on Lyre. He tilted his head in an invitation for the incubus to follow him.
Resignation sagged Lyre’s shoulders. He sighed, giving a brief nod.
Piper looked sharply between them, shoving her pain aside as confusion replaced it. What unspoken communication had just passed between them? Why did Ash want to talk to Lyre before his meeting was over? And how did Lyre know what their conversation would be about—and why was he so unhappy about it?
Ash glanced at the elders. “Is there a private room nearby?”
Eliada offered quick directions to a room just down the hall. As they left, with Lyre dragging his feet like a child about to be punished, Ash flicked a glance toward her. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. What had that look meant? She glanced at the table, where Raum and the elders had resumed a discussion of Asphodel’s defenses. She took a step toward the door.
“Piper.” Seiya’s blue eyes cut through her. “If you go, you may not be forgiven.”
Piper winced, doubt stabbing her. Was she misinterpreting Ash’s glance? He had specifically asked for a private room, and Seiya’s warning was clear. If Piper overheard something she shouldn’t, either Ash or Lyre—or both—might not forgive her for betraying their trust.
Rubbing her damp palms on her pants, she walked quickly out of the room, battling with her conscience with each step. She should mind her own business, but at the same time she was pretty sure Ash wanted her to follow—secretly. Otherwise, he would have just told her to come with him. She suspected Ash wanting to talk to Lyre had more to do with his uncanny knowledge of Hades spells than his inexplicable weaving abilities—both topics Lyre had flat-out refused to discuss with her.
At the end of the stone hallway, the faint murmur of male voices beckoned her.
Burying her doubts, she crept down the hall until she was standing on the other side of the sliding door. The wood was thin, muffling but not disguising their words.
“ … magical disturbance that Tenryu senses has been going on for almost a thousand years now,” Ash was saying. “I know that predates Chrysalis by centuries, but if Hades has some sort of experimentation going on that can interfere with ley line magic, I have to assume Chrysalis would be in on it.”
When Lyre answered, his voice was cold and hard—a tone she’d only heard from the normally easygoing incubus a handful of times. “A safe assumption.”
A quiet pause before Ash responded. “I’m sorry, Lyre. I wouldn’t ask you if I had any other option.”
Lyre grunted. “I’m not surprised Tenryu can sense that something’s wrong in Asphodel. Hades has always wanted power, the more unlimited the better. And what power is more unlimited than the ley lines? They’ve been searching for a way to harness ley line magic for centuries, and it’s more likely than not that they’re messing with the Underworld’s magic in the process.”
“Have they managed to harness the ley line magic yet?”
“That was never my department,” Lyre replied emotionlessly. “As far as I know, it was a work in progress.”
Piper’s lips parted, her forehead wrinkling. His department?
“Why can Tenryu sense this disturbance in Asphodel?” Ash asked. “How can they be experimenting on ley line magic when there are no ley lines near the valley?”
Lyre made a noise that was half huff, half harsh laugh. “There are a lot of reasons why Samael and my family want me dead. I know too many of their secrets. But that one …”
The silence stretched.
“Beneath Asphodel,” Lyre said, “beneath the Chrysalis building, to be more specific, there is a ley line.”
Ash hissed. “A ley line under the estate. So they’ve had free rein all this time to experiment at their leisure. Are you sure they haven’t found a way to tap the power by now?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Lyre replied. “There’s a device down there that siphons ley line magic—probably what Tenryu has been sensing—but actually weaving that magic into a usable spell is almost impossible. It’s unstable and volatile. It practically has a mind of its own and random explosions were pretty common last time I was down there. My cousin died in one of those random explosions.”
He sounded distinctly pleased about his cousin’s demise.
“Did you work on it yourself?” Ash asked.
“Briefly, which is why I know it’s there, but I made sure my weavings disintegrated in the worst possible ways. I was quickly reassigned.”
Her breath caught in her chest as she realized what Lyre was saying. His “department” … being “reassigned” from the ley line experimentation … He had worked for Chrysalis. Horror tightened her throat. Had he really been one of the magic “scientists” that invented torture devices and conducted horrific experiments on daemons?
“So they have the device but no working spells that use it?” Ash asked.
“I don’t know.” Frustration tinged Lyre’s voice. “It’s been years, Ash. Everything I know is dangerously out of date.”
“You’re my only possible source of information. There’s no one else to ask.”
“Fine,” he said gruffly. “What else do you need
to know?”
“Would destroying Chrysalis destroy that device?”
“Destroying the building, no. The ley line is deep underground. On top of that, destroying the device is only a short-term solution because they could just build another one. You’d need to destroy the records too. It’s all kept in their information vaults. Those are well guarded and deep underground as well. I doubt even your dragon could destroy them from the outside.”
“Then we’ll need to get inside.”
“It won’t work,” Lyre said flatly. “You don’t have the skill to disarm the weavings.”
“I’ll have to use brute force then.”
Boots scuffed on stone and she imagined Lyre pacing.
“That might destroy the ley line device but not the vaults. The room is designed to collapse in the event of an attack. There are layers upon layers of defensive weavings.” Lyre paused. “You don’t do well underground, Ash.”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” he said stubbornly. “We need to destroy the knowledge of how to make it, as well as the machine itself.”
A long minute passed, not even broken by Lyre’s pacing. The incubus sighed, the sound lined with too much pain and misery for words.
“No,” Ash said before Lyre could speak. “We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.”
“I won’t ask you to go back there, Lyre.”
“I know. That’s why I’m volunteering. You said yourself the records need to be destroyed. Attacking Asphodel won’t accomplish that otherwise.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “If you can handle it, so can I. Neither of us can truly escape that place until it’s destroyed. So let’s burn it to the damn ground.”
Piper bit her lip, guilt welling in her as her horror melted away. How could she have doubted Lyre? It was only too clear that whatever involvement Lyre had had with Chrysalis, it was a dark part of his past that he hated. Had he been as unwilling a participant as Ash?
“You can’t go in there alone,” Ash said. “You’ll need protection while you disarm the spells.”