Page 74 of Ruin of Revenants

Let’s go home, Bren said, and we launched into the sky.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Archer

Sleep was impossible. A root dug into my back and, despite the screened tent we’d pitched to keep out the insects, the sound of their endless chirring and the racket from the tree frogs was impossibly loud compared to the quiet haven of my bedroom. Worst of all, Mortius’ curse had me feeling especially heavy tonight, as heavy and aching as a plague burrowing into my bones.

Nearby, Isoria slept in a bedroll on her side facing me, her breathing gentle and steady, her dark hair splayed across her pillow. Her eyelashes curled against her cheeks, her expression peaceful in her dreams.

My heart twinged just looking at her. I could still taste her kiss, but I feared it hadn’t meant anything to her and never would.

I was a necessary evil, a means to an end.

Across the tent, Bren slept in a roll closer to the door, his hand in a fist, as if even in sleep he was on high alert, waiting for me to betray them.

I slipped outside without disturbing either of them and ventured closer to the edge of the clearing we’d stopped in.

The night was heavy with the scents of damp earth and greenery. Through the trees, I caught glimpses of the Passionfire gleaming in the moonlight, its rhythmic current soothing but nearly drowned out by the song of frogs and insects. When I glanced up, I could see the moon and her stars peeking through the rainforest canopy, pinpoints of shifting blues and reds and bright-whites against a velvet backdrop.

The jungle was alive with nocturnal animals rustling through the foliage, keeping me on my guard. I was no Cliff, eager to tame a jaguar if one came across our party.

Bren had insisted on taking my dagger before we’d settled in for the night, but there were plenty of other sharp objects around. Pressing into the jungle, letting its shadows cloak me, I selected a stone and pressed its tip against my palm until blood welled.

“Mortius,” I muttered, my voice like a rasp after hours of disuse, “please, tell me what you’ve found out.”

I felt drained, on the verge of falling to my knees and begging, when I spotted shadows swirling in my periphery.

I clenched my hands into fists, heedless of the blood that trickled onto the forest floor from my injured palm.

“Crown Prince Archer. What strange sleeping arrangements you have tonight.” Mortius’ gravelly words were oddly welcome, a bit of my despair melted into foolhardy hope.

“Do you have news?” I asked. “Any hints as to who the necromancer is and how I can stop them?”

The shadows formed a figure that hovered before me. “Nothing. No sign of a fae conjuring the dead, no one drawing from my powers that I can sense. I’ve sought the wisdom of the other gods, but they are silent and uninterested. I’ve rifled through temples and graveyards and abandoned cottages. Visited the hag Maris. I journeyed beyond the borders of Emberglade to watch your neighbors to no avail.

“All I know is that you are running out of time, Prince of Curses.”

My blood simmered at the title, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing better than to risk the god of death’s ire and another curse. A curse for me, a curse for my kingdom. I couldn’t afford any more. Instead, I asked roughly, “What do you mean?”

“The revenants are only increasing in their numbers. As you already saw, they’re becoming more organized, moving together as an army.”

“They’re going to wipe out all of Emberglade.”

“They’re moving toward the capital,” Mortius declared.

I frowned. “They can’t get through the barrier. It’s the one place our citizens are safe, but if every fae in the kingdom came to Rainsong as a refugee, we wouldn’t have the space for them all. And what if they can’t make it in time?”

Mortius shrugged. “Their magic is strange. Whoever is controlling them is powerful, powerful enough to trap the souls of the recently dead inside their bodies. I cannot take them to the afterlife. Who knows what other powers this necromancer has that could undo what Maris built.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, breathing through my nose as I processed the information. It was bad enough to imagine the revenant army razing every town and village across our kingdom, but if it pierced the capital of Emberglade? There would be no chance of taking any refugees, no place of safety for my people anywhere.

My stomach was in my chest; my heart in my head, the pulse so loud it was difficult to focus on anything else. Sweat collected at the back of my neck and my back grew hot, like a fire burned in my veins and soon, I would combust. I forced myself to inhale deeply, trying to let the scents of the rainforest ground me.

“If you can’t help me with this, I don’t expect you’ll want to lift the curse,” I muttered, not looking at the god of death. It felt audacious to come close to making the request, like he’d strike me with a new curse if I spoke the words too loudly or looked too closely at him. “But since I have paid your price to no avail, perhaps you could help me with different information?”

Mortius chuckled, the sound reverberating uncomfortably in my chest. Overhead, the leaves shook, and for a second, I thought the stars had snuffed out before their light peeked through the canopy again. “Oh, you are bold, princeling. After all, our deal was information, and I have, in fact, delivered information.”

I swallowed thickly, finding words blastedly difficult. My ears were ringing; my body was still too hot, like a living flame. It was difficult to think clearly through the way my mind was shrieking at me in warning, as if preparing for an imminent attack.