The Coral sits in its massive tank, and I eye it desperately, wondering how I’ll access it. I’m an adequate swimmer, but I have no idea what else lurks inside that tank. With those high, smooth walls, I’m not sure how I’d even get in there.

As we round the curve, I notice a male High Fae standing on the other side. He’s clutching a notebook and stares up at the Coral intently before scribbling in it.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Bain,” Cyan says, his tone clipped like he doesn’t want to answer me.

“What’s he doing?”

Bain looks up and nods at Cyan, who then presses a hand to his chest and bows at the waist before straightening up.

“He’s monitoring the Coral,” Cyan says before gesturing for me to follow.

“Monitoring it?” I ask as I scramble to keep up.

“He’s the Artefact’s caretaker.”

“Caretaker?”

He glares at me. “Are you just repeating everything I say?”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I grumble as I cast another look over my shoulder. I wish I could stay with the Coral, but I’m worried showing too much interest will further raise Cyan’s suspicions.

Tonight, I’ll come up with a plan. I’m resourceful. I’ve gotten myself out of tighter jams. Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything right now. Pain builds in my temple, and I massage it, willing down the nausea swirling in my gut.

I have three more days to get my hands on the ark.

Three more days until Nadir is lost to me forever.

I can’t let that happen. I will not let that happen.

So help me—I will raze this entire fucking palace to the ground if I must.

CHAPTER 11

GABRIEL

APHELION—THE SUN PALACE

Istare around the empty cell in disbelief. At the neatly folded clothes sitting on the floor like they’re mocking me. I can almost smell Atlas and the taint he’s left behind.

I avoid looking too closely at the worst horror in this dungeon, but there’s no shying away from it. The drip of blood fills the silence, hitting the stones and echoing off the cell’s damp corners, which means Atlas can’t have gone far.

I should do something. Call for help. Summon every guard in Aphelion to hunt him down. But I can’t seem to make myself move. I’m frozen to the floor, stuck in the churning darkness of time. The load I’ve been carrying for a century finally catches up with me. My chest tightens and my limbs ache, becoming physical manifestations of every hurt my king—former king—has inflicted upon me, Tyr, and my brothers.