I wanted it to be a surprise when you found your way to me. But she lives in the Underworld, and when you open the door, you will be able to see her and perhaps . . . Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Rion’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. It couldn’t be true, but he wanted to believe it so much. What was Herric implying? Could he bring her back? He’d give up his crown this time. He’d give up anything to be with her. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He’d have to find some way to deal with Meora, but she probably wouldn’t even notice anyway.

If there was anything he’d learned in his discoveries of virulence, it was that anything was possible if you knew what questions to ask and, more importantly, where to look.

She said to tell you she still loves the taste of butterscotch.

Those words almost had Rion swallowing his tongue. Butterscotch. A quiet cabin in the Cinta Wilds at the height of summer, surrounded by fields of wildflowers. Rachel naked in his bed, her gleaming brown skin kissed by the sun. They’d been sharing ice cream, and one thing led to another before he found himself licking it off every inch of her body before she’d returned the favor. The hairs on his arms stirred at the memory.

He’d never been able to stand the smell of butterscotch after she’d left.

“What do you need?” Rion asked, running his hands through his hair and tugging on it so hard the roots ached.

The girl. The ark. You know what I want.

Open the Underworld and let me out.

CHAPTER 52

GABRIEL

The sky flashes with silver lightning against dark grey clouds. This has been happening for the past hour, but this storm brings us no rain, only a thick sense of foreboding.

A note arrived yesterday from Nadir confirming they had all the rulers together and that they’d be destroying the arks today.

I sense we’re witnessing the outcome of that act.

“They’re killing her,” Tyr says from where he stands at the edge of the water.

He’s shirtless, wearing only his breeches. Now I see how pale he is, how much the lack of sunlight has stolen from him. Once strong and muscled, he’s now lean and rangy, like a rag doll that’s had all its stuffing removed.

I keep an eye on him from a short distance, not entirely trusting him to stay safe. I wake up in a cold sweat every night, sure he’s escaped his room and done the unthinkable. I’ve had everything he could use to hurt himself removed from his room, but I worry constantly.

He looks over at me. “They’re destroying the arks.” The sound carries over the crashing waves and the wind. He knows I’m there, always watching.