Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Titania said that Samil was dead,” Kerrigan began, retracing the path she’d taken in her mind for where the crown would be. If she gave Fordham the pieces, surely he’d put it together too. “Samil was Irena’s father, but Samil is also…”
Fordham frowned. “Descended of Mab?”
“Yes. And so are you, through Mab’s line through Samil.” Kerrigan came to a stop before the door that led even lower in the mountain—the etched eye that stared back at them. “Which makes you descended of Irena as well.”
“Not necessarily,” Fordham argued. “Samil had many children. Irena was just one of many.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I considered that. I think that the entire House of Shadows is descended from Samil’s line. Branched away long ago to the children with gifts—shadow wielding, lightning, and ice. The powers that only the House of Shadows possesses.”
“What are you saying?”
Kerrigan grasped a torch and lit the way as she yanked open the door. “Irena wielded shadows.”
Fordham’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but…”
“We saw her use them to get on Ferrinix’s back. We saw her use them with Titania. She’s a shadow wielder, and there’s only one line of shadow.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“It corrupted her goodness,” Kerrigan said. “Until there was nothing left of her but ambition and selfishness. She created the Society, but there is no mention of her ruling the Society. She was just the symbol. After what she did, she and Ferrinix disappeared from recorded history.”
Fordham’s eyes went distant. “That’s true. She’s used as the Irena Bargain, but they didn’t keep her in politics. It was long ago though. Most people don’t talk about what happened after the Irena Bargain, just the bargain itself.”
“Which is strange in and of itself. Wouldn’t the founding of the Society be a hot topic?”
“There’s information about the founding of the Society. I’ve read some of it at Draco Mountain.”
“But not here?” she asked.
“Well, no. Just the founding of the House of Shadows.”
“What does that say?”
“That the three families came together as one with the same ideals,” Fordham said. “And together we ruled from our mountain.”
“Exactly. The three families of Samil’s line—Ollivier, Blanchard, and Laurent. And Ollivier has ruled as long as time.”
Fordham shook his head. “We’ve fought for millennia.”
“But the founding of the House of Shadows lies with Ollivier, yes?”
“Yes,” he said. “And you think…what?”
“I think Irena came to a different mountain with her cousins and used her new wicked magic to enslave those she thought were beneath her.”
Fordham stilled when he realized where they were walking. “No.”
“I think her name was lost to time. Even from here.”
“Kerrigan,” he warned.
“Irena Ollivier.”
Fordham removed the key to the Ollivier crypt, his childhood hiding spot, and pushed the creaking door open. “You think it was here all along.”
“Yes.”
Kerrigan dropped the torch into a bracket on the wall and stepped up to the ancient Fae entombed at the center of the crypt—so old that she had lost her name. All that remained were this stone sarcophagus and a crown at her temple.
Fordham came to stand beside her, staring down at his lost ancestor. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Kerrigan said, “but if I’m wrong, then we just won’t tell anyone about this excursion and continue like nothing happened.”
Fordham released a stiff laugh. “Fine. Help me move it.”
Together they shifted the heavy stone to the side. As Fordham had told her the first time they’d come inside, the sarcophagus was empty. It had long ago been scavenged, or perhaps there was nothing within at any point. But Kerrigan wasn’t deterred. If Irena had the most dangerously powerful weapon in Alandria, then she was certainly not putting it somewhere easy to find.
Kerrigan ran her hands along the inside, looking for a catch, but came up empty. “There has to be a way.”
Fordham sighed. “Gods.”
She glanced up at him. “What?”
“If she was a shadow wielder, then…she would have put it in the nothing.”
Fordham’s face was resigned as he closed his thunderstorm eyes and pulled the shadows to him. A pocket of space appeared in the emptiness of the tomb. One moment, there was simply darkness, and the next, Fordham’s hand closed over something.
He released the shadows, and in their place was the metal crown.
Chapter Fifty-One
The Brother
Kerrigan’s heart stuttered to a stop at the sight of the metal crown. It was even more formidable in person. Black as pitch, as if it were absorbing the light, and yet somehow shiny. The base was larger than Kerrigan had anticipated with jutting spikes coming up at even intervals. It looked as if it had been dipped in metal and been left to hang upside down, dripping until it solidified like stalactites. Power radiated from it—a dull pulse that seemed to reverberate around the crypt.
“Holy gods,” Kerrigan muttered.
Fordham’s eyes darkened at the sight of it. “We should have never found this.”
“No,” she agreed. “No, it’s terrible.”
“You can’t wear this.”