Page 79 of To Dance with Death

My gaze swings to where Anton stands just inside his closet, adjusting the sleeves of the robe that hangs open at his smooth, bare chest. His hair is tied back, though a few strands have slipped loose. Strands of gold hang from his ears and neck. I swallow thickly and force my gaze away. He’s always so distracting to look at, and I curse him for it under my breath.

He stacks bracelets up one arm, and I realize he has yet to look at me. “The food, Vasalie. Eat.”

He sounds…angry. Just like he did when I first woke, except more so. My cheeks flame with heat. I grip the tray and bring it to my lap, examining the array of pastries and fruit laid across it.

Eat, hydrate, then find Sundar. Resume the quest…

“I have matters to attend to today. If you need anything, an Aegis will assist you.” Again his tone sounds edged.

“Matters?” I ask before sipping the tea. “You mean the appeals?”

“No appeals today.”

I place my teacup onto its saucer. “What matters, then?”

He doesn’t bother to answer me before striding out the door.

Cramming the last of a pastry into my mouth, I rise as quickly as I can manage, throw on a dark linen dress gathered at the waist along with a cloak and his pendant, which I hang around my neck. Whatever matter he claims he has to attend to, my gut tells me it has to do with Moranya. The reason he vanishes every so often. I have two days left to figure this out, and Moranya is the key.

My visions swims, but I race down the hall and down the stairs, catching sight of Anton as he crosses the bridge into the main part of the palace. From there, I follow after him, though I stay back in the hopes that he won’t notice.

He enters the throne room, and a crease forms between my brows. He said he wasn’t entertaining appeals today. But then he parts a large door framed in gold along the back wall and disappears inside.

I wait a few beats before following, slipping behind the door myself.

The inside of the hall is dimly lit, narrow yet tall, soft blue light feathering the space from sconces bobbing high along the ceiling. Due to its curvature, I can’t see where it leads, but the distinct click of another door clues me in.

I follow Anton through what feels like multiple hallways, always keeping my distance, my steps soft, until I am out of the palace entirely.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Anton

Moranya’s dwelling is perhaps his least favorite place—and by the Fates, itsmells.Like a bag of soaked, molded tea, dunked in brandy, has been scrubbed into every inch of the place. He asked her once if she burned her nostrils out during her scuffle with her Fate, but as it turns out, she is merely keeping to the old traditions.

Sacrifices. Altars. Incense—and not the pleasant kind. Because that’s how mortals used to speak to the Fates. And Moranya, whether she’s considered a Fate now—which is entirely beyond him…Well.

She has quite a lot to say.

To someoneveryspecific. Not that she’ll ever succeed.

Souls, he really isn’t in the mood to deal with her now.

He was scared witless recently by Vastianna’s fever. And when she kissed him with that decadent mouth, he lost his damned mind all over again. He woke in a pleasant sort of daze…until he discovered that the fever had come back worse than before. So the following days were spent in a panic, keeping her under the influence of a duskrose. Watching over her, making sure she was still breathing until he was certain she was out of danger.

And then.

Then.

He came upon a slice of information he’d rather forget. Something that reminded him trust was futile. Toneverget attached. What a fool he was, teetering so close to the very thing he’d vowed to avoid.

It was the reminder he needed. The reason he came here in the first place. And besides, he knew she was a liar from the beginning, could smell it a mile away, yet his desire for her clouded his good sense.

He is determined to make her leave Morta’s Lair altogether. End their agreement—but first he has other matters to attend to.

Pale stone juts like an obelisk, tall as an evergreen, rising from the crest of the mountain. It was quite the trek, rounding the side of the cliff then finding that Fates-forsaken passageway that is far less inviting than even the dank, dark tunnels on Anell. It’s about half as wide and pitch black, and damnit if he doesn’t scrape his skin raw about ten times along the rough walls as he progresses.

On the other side, however, is Moranya’s Citadel.