Page 55 of Ruin of Revenants

“I haven’t heard anything of miraculous revenant healings or anything useful about this female you’re still parading about the castle,” Father said, his searing orange eyes darting to me pointedly as he tore into his turkey leg.

For once, we were having a family dinner without Isoria present. Without the fanfare of a large feast or party. But that also meant Father’s attention was focused almost fully on me and the ways he could pick apart everything about me.

It had been one day since the latest party in which I’d been reminded that I was, in all likelihood, going to be trapped with Isoria forever. One day since I’d found her icing a cake in my private kitchen and confusing me with emotions that didn’t make sense. Was it all phoenix manipulation?

Somehow, being around her wasn’t unbearable anymore.

Briar sighed, fluffing her red curls and daintily cutting at her own meat. “And she’s not that beautiful either. Are you hoping to have some rather unremarkable offspring with her to inherit the throne when you’re gone?”

I prickled at this, as if their insults bothered me. It didn’t feel like I was playing the part of a devoted fiancé tonight, and that fact was unnerving. “You think everyone’s dull and unremarkable if they’re not you,” I retorted before returning my focus to Father. “And no, I don’t think her healing can bring back the dead, as talented as she is. But it’s not as if you’re that troubled by the revenant army anyway.”

“More concerned with your future,” the king said, pointing his half-eaten turkey leg at me. “Either you eradicate the phoenixes or one eradicates you. You need to keep yourself focused on that task, not running around the kingdom playing at being a hero. The revenants are a distraction from the death-lovers themselves. If you let them, they’re going to win.”

My smile slipped. He was right, and we all knew it. The trouble was, they were a distraction that was also killing my people. I couldn’t not focus on that problem.

“Anyway,” Father continued, “one advantage to you tying yourself down to this female is the chance to produce heirs, as Briar has mentioned. And with the threat to your life hanging over us as long as those death-lovers exist, I’ve decided it’s wise you do settle down. Have some offspring. That all works in our favor and keeps our line strong.” He flashed a sharp-toothed smile. “They can’t dismantle us if our numbers grow too great.”

I was hot and cold all at once. None of the food on my own plate was appealing. Imported turkey from the cooler regions was usually a rare dinner item, practically a delicacy. Now the scent turned my stomach. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you’re insisting on marrying the female, set a date. We’ll announce it at your birthday feast. And make it soon. Better not to waste time if we can use this to strengthen our family.”

“Ooh, and I can help her plan the wedding,” Briar mused. “Make it an affair worth remembering. Something elegant and lovely.”

King Wystan smiled indulgently, patting his daughter’s hand. “Yes, absolutely, my darling.” He turned to me expectantly.

I cleared my throat. “Of course. Yes. I mean, we were settling the finer details of deciding when her family can be present, and—” Inwardly, I kicked myself. Why mention family now? I should have said she was orphaned, alone. “That is, she doesn’t have many that can be present because they were living outside the capital. But as that is not our concern any longer, since it’s been royally decreed that we don’t care, we will set a date.”

I smirked, wishing it was cutting, but Father didn’t care about the rest of Emberglade. Insulting him about it didn’t bother him and never would.

I was on my way to warn Isoria about setting a wedding date when running footsteps in the halls made me whirl. Liana was there, her yellow eyes wide, her breathing ragged.

“They’re growing organized, Your Highness,” she whispered. “They started rising from different graves throughout Emberglade, but instead of immediately attacking they began to find one another. It’s like they’re now being directed to form an army. And its size has grown. They’re more organized than I’ve ever seen them, and they’re marching along the Ivorymist toward Duskmarsh.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Isoria

The night grew unusually cold the closer our carriage drew to Duskmarsh, which was at the edge of the Ivorymist River, tucked upon a lone hill rising out of the boggy earth.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Owen muttered as the jaguars—this time a pair that Cliff called Princess and Chase—padded over a narrow bridge to approach the town. “Something is off in the water, in the air and all around us. It’s heavy and wrong.”

My magic felt the wrongness too, though in a different way. Gooseflesh rose on my arms and nerves prickled through my body. Death was so strong in this place, it was almost all I could focus on, nearly crowding out my awareness of my other senses entirely. The urge to draw on my fire was almost overwhelming, especially with the encroaching shadows. Cloud cover devoured most of the moonlight, leaving the world in murky darkness that anything could be hiding within, and I longed to dispel it.

Beside me, Archer was uncharacteristically sullen tonight. His emotions were heavy, practically stifling. Dread. Despair. Darkness. All the things that he normally masked with charm and laughter and glittering smiles for his people, but didn’t bother to conceal with his friends. And he couldn’t keep the emotions from me.

It would have been gratifying, but instead I only resented him more, longing for an escape not only from him but also from his crushing emotions.

Suddenly, Princess and Chase snarled, and the carriage jerked to a halt before rocking. I was slammed to the side, right into Archer’s chest. He caught me as if by instinct before my head smacked against the window, his strong hands cradling me as if I were as small and vulnerable as Onyx. I glanced over my shoulder, pulling myself upright, and for an instant our gazes locked.

His confusion over his instinct to protect me mirrored my own.

An unearthly sound and Cliff’s shouts of alarm broke the moment.

Lily and Owen had already shoved open the door and leapt onto the bridge, drawing blades and calling upon their magic.

“Revenants!” Lily screamed.

The wall of unnaturally cold air hit me like a physical blow as I scrambled through the open carriage door and dropped onto the bridge. Lily, Owen, Cliff, and his jaguars had formed a semi-circle around the carriage, facing a host of revenants climbing forth from the swamp itself.