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cassiefromhell · 1 year ago

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Unexpected (pt. 4)

Part One Part Three Part Five

Fanbase: acotar

Eris x Reader x Azriel

Summary: Your morning has been completely turned upside down, and you have a feeling that your mating ceremony day might get a little... bloodier.

Word Count: 5.2k (this is a longer chapter, go to my poll to vote for longer or shorter!)

Warnings: gore, blood, fighting, suicide, fire/burning

A/N: Requests are OPEN! Check my pinned message for details on what I'll write <3. Additionally, if you're invested in Unexpected, then answer the poll on my profile! It's super helpful when I get responses and feedback, and this poll is part of it. Thank you so, so much for the notes on this lil series! I read all comments and reblogs.

This creature, melded to the dark of the room, breathes on me.

The warm air hits the back of my neck, and I suppress a shiver.

“Look at me,” it hisses. Mist pools around my hand. “Acknowledge me.”

I stifle a gasp when I realize what I’m facing.

The Bogge.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and begin to hum to myself softly, pretending like I came here for a reason. Blindly, I cross the room, nearly tripping on something.

“Look, my lady,” it snarls once more, sending hot, humid air through my hair. “I am what you fear. I will kill you. Look.”

“Gotta find that necklace,” I murmur, desperately avoiding acknowledging it as a real creature. Once I do, it’ll actually have the means to hurt — perhaps even kill — me. Stumbling forward, I come into contact with the wall nose-first, then feel it with a hand, pretending to look around.

“You want to look,” it pants once more, and the room goes bone-chillingly frigid. “Look. Admire me. See me. I am real.”

I hum louder, walking along the wall. My head bumps into some sort of a shelf, and I grunt.

Footsteps approach. Those familiar light footsteps.

No.

No, no, no.

Please don’t open the door. Please don’t come in.

Please don’t—

The door swings open.

“My lady,” Fauna says, and I feel her eyes on my back. “I came to— oh.. oh my god..”

“Fauna!” I yell, clenching my eyes shut tighter. “Fauna, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Don’t look.”

But she screams. And there’s a clatter, and then a roar.

Fuck!

I whirl, just in time to see a bony, violent lump of magic and flesh and muscle launching itself at Fauna. She shrieks, stumbling back, but she won’t make it in time. She won’t be able to get away, not from the Bogge.

I snarl, lunging for the creature and intercepting it midair. It hisses and snaps at me, but I manage to pin it to the ground with just raw strength.

Quickly, I give an impossibly sharp tug to both of my mating bonds. I need Eris here, because the Bogge is rumored to only be defeated by High Lords or Ladies. Azriel gets a bonus pull, as a backup because I really need some type of help.

“Fauna!” I roar, struggling against the flapping pile of bones and skin and muscle. “Run! Get help! Call for Eris!”

Fauna nods slowly, stumbling back. She’s clearly in shock.

“Fauna! You need to GO-“

The creature twists my wrist and I cry out, tumbling to the side. Thankfully, Fauna makes a break for it, and now I just have to keep the damn thing contained.

The Bogge bares its rotting teeth at me, and I hiss, lunging for it once more.

It rolls out of my striking range, then jumps towards the hallway.

“Oh, NO, you fucking don’t!” I shriek, diving onto it.

This time, my hit lands, and I sink my teeth into the creature’s shoulder and rip. It hisses and snarls, trying to claw at me. I shut it up using a hand, setting my palm ablaze and driving it into the bony flesh of its neck.

It does not like that.

The Bogge rolls out of my grip, easily dislocating its own shoulder to do so. It plunges out through the door to the hall, and I’m forced to follow it, staggering behind.

Two things happen: one lucky, the other unlucky.

The unlucky thing is that there are servants still in the hall, busy preparing for the ceremony this morning. They scream and drop their things on the ground, some scattering and some lingering to watch.

“Evacuate!” I call out, jumping onto the Bogge and landing a blazing punch to its shoulder. “Clear this wing! Under orders of the throne!”

Shockingly, the servants begin to do as I ask. They don’t seem to mind that I actually don’t have the authority to give crown orders — not yet, at least. They scatter, opening doors and urging others to leave.

Luckily, what Azriel broke was a vase, and there’s a particularly weapon-like shard right next to me.

I snag it off of the fancy rug, which has begun to be stained the dark violet of Bogge blood.

In my distraction, the creature latches onto my back, shoving me to the carpet. I roar as its claws dig into my shoulders, and I feel its breath on my neck.

“Dirty fog bastard,” I snarl, twisting my torso and managing to plunge the glass shard deep into its ribcage.

It meets me with a howl, baring sharp teeth. I bare mine straight back, and twist my makeshift blade. My tight grip on the shard causes blood to bloom on my palm, cutting straight through my skin. I ignore the pain.

My legs kick into action, swiftly pushing me to my feet. The Bogge falls off of me, but is jumping at me in no time.

I raise a fire wall around us, and suddenly the creature realizes that I am their only opponent. The only obstacle between it and going on a killing spree around the palace.

The only Fae it needs to kill to gain access to the rest of the palace, brimming with weak prey.

The Bogge clacks its teeth at me, the air twisting and churning around it. It seems to flash between misty and humid and dry multiple times per minute — a sure sign of the enemy’s anger.

I lunge again, moving to plunge my double-ended blade into its chest. It narrowly dodges, and lands a good scratch on my side.

My dress must be in tatters at this point.

Igniting my knuckles once more, I feed it a solid fiery punch to the throat. It only wheezes for a moment, before returning to pawing at me with impossibly sharp claws.

I snarl, diving towards it. This time, it doesn’t dodge, and we roll to the other side of the hallway. Mercifully, I end on top, and I plunge my blade into one shoulder, then the other. Bogge blood spurts up, mixing with the red mess of my own hands, and landing in my mouth. I don’t even spit it out, I just swallow it and land one more stab to its ribcage.

Until suddenly, I’m struggling to breathe.

My eyes bulge, and I glare down at the creature beneath me. It sports a crazed grin, pleased as the air around me becomes depraved of any and all oxygen.

I cough, squeezing its throat with flaming fingers.

If I can’t breathe, then it doesn’t get to, either.

I realize that there’s only one way for me to retaliate against such strong magic.

So, with a strained noise from behind my gasping, I unleash my own magic. It floods the air, streaming from my open wounds, my wheezing throat, my nose, my ears — everywhere.

Tendrils of deep red explode around me, and then dive onto the creature. I stand, stumbling back and directing my magic through a dance of death. Though I’m used to clean kills and swift executions, I’m no stranger to monster fighting. The magic memory resides in my veins, and the ribbons of power choke and tear and rip his flesh apart.

And just as suddenly as before, I can breathe. I raise a bloodied hand to my throat, taking oxygen-starved gasps of air, filling my aching lungs. I can already feel the strength returning to my muscles, feeding my body what it was sorely lacking.

I know it won’t be enough. Now that I can breathe, I’ll need to go back in physically.

Only now do I notice the two voices in my head.

I address the first: Eris.

The low tenor is panicked, further emphasized by the emotions pouring down the bond.

Love? Love? Little flame? Please answer me. And please tell me you’re not in that fire wall.

I regret to inform you that I am.

Relief floods him, shooting down the thread of connection. You’re conscious, oh thank the mother—

I’m almost done here, I cut in gently. I need a knife. Or a sword. Literally anything that won’t cut me back.

I’ll ask around.

I shift to the second voice, being met by Azriel’s oddly calm tone. I’m shocked that he’s already figured out how to speak down the bond: perhaps he’s just got practice from having Daemati friends.

Eris says you’re alive, he says, tone smooth and soothing. Do you need help?

I need a blade of some sort. I’ve been using a shard of glass.

Catch.

A hunting knife hurtles through the wall of fire, and I catch it swiftly, flipping it in my hand. Upon a quick investigation, it’s an impossibly sharp metal blooming from an obsidian hilt, and softly glowing. Definitely enchanted in some way or form.

I stride towards the struggling creature, gripping the hilt of my new weapon.

Launching myself onto it like a true predator, I let my violent tendencies completely loose. I relish in the slicing of skin, knowing that I am ridding the palace of this little bitch baby Bogge.

It wiggles and howls and snarls and occasionally tries to bite, but I maintain my top position. I repeatedly plunge the blade into its flesh, and after a few good strikes, it stops breathing. And then it stops moving. The deep violet blood under its thin flesh has gone cold.

I make the decision to read up on the Bogge later, because I’m legitimately unsure of what it takes to permanently kill such a thing. Snarling, I also decide that I’m probably not done.

With a few more artful strokes of this masterpiece of a weapon, I disembowel, behead, and quadrisect the Bogge.

I think that’ll do the trick.

Staggering to my feet, I take a moment to survey myself. My dress is ruined, but thankfully still in one piece, and it covers me well enough. I have deep scratches and gouges across my torso and legs, and I’m certain that there’s not an inch of skin that isn’t bloodied in some way of form.

Twirling my fancy-dancy blade in my hand, I step out of the fire wall — and am met with, arguably, more chaos than what was in my little arena.

In fact, I’m very tempted to go back in, if only to escape what I see before me.

All of the High Lords, High Lady, and their entourages have gathered to the scene. They must have heard that a dangerous creature was nearby, and came to help.

However, they’re occupied.

By the scene of Eris and Azriel.

My two mates are at each other’s throats, only held back by a few other Fae — Tarquin and Lucien hold back Eris; Cassian and Rhys have a hold on both of Azriel’s biceps. Both males are snarling and uttering threats to one another. Helion stands between them, no doubt trying to soothe the tension with his humor, and Thesan is nearby, definitely anxiety-stricken by the situation.

They have not noticed my entrance.

I clear my throat, still spinning the knife in my fingers.

All heads snap to me, the hall growing very quiet.

“Can the Bogge still live after being decapitated, disemboweled, and de-limbed?” I ask, completely serious. “I mean, really, I need to read up on my Bogge facts. Because I cut it up as much as I can without totally shredding it, but for an elemental creature I’m really not sure what it takes to permanently kill.”

Eris is in front of me within moments, having broken free of the hands on him. He sweeps me into his arms, tucking my head against his neck.

“Oh, god, it was a Bogge? You were fighting a Bogge?” He exclaims, pulling me closer. I hug him back, careful to not stab him. “You’re alive. Oh, thank the mother.”

“Yes, I’m okay, very okay,” I soothe, reaching up to run my fingers through his rouge locks. I release the magic behind me, letting the fire wall dissipate.

He nearly purrs at the contact, quickly dropping to his knees and holding me at arms length. I can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks at this angle, head at my waist level. Like a blur of red royal beauty. “You’re cut up, but alright. Anything broken? How’s that wrist?”

Suddenly, I’m beaming down at him, even as the world spins around us — blood loss, I’m sure. “I killed a Bogge. Call me High Lady, because I’m officially on your level,” I giggle, reaching over to rub his head.

He beams right back at me. “You did. Of course you did.”

But a hand on my shoulder distracts me, and I look up to find Azriel standing there. He looks impossibly pretty, as he always is, but more so now.

One pretty mate, two pretty mate, red pretty mate, blue pretty mate.

“Oh, look, it’s other mate,” I grin, tilting my head. “Thanks for the knife, by the way. It’s epic. Can I keep this thing? Or is that why you’re here, to take it back? Because I’d like to—”

“Did you get any of the Bogge’s blood in your mouth?” He asks, completely serious. “Any at all?”

I frown, trying to think back. I glance to where the Bogge was, seeing Rhys and Helion nudging it with their boots. I can just barely make out the former muttering ‘…it’s definitely dead, that’s for sure…’

“Maybe,” I murmur, stumbling in place. “Yeah— yeah, I swallowed some, no time for spitting. Why?”

Azriel curses under his breath, turning away from me. “Thesan! She drank its blood!”

Eris frowns, looking up at Azriel with concern lacing his sharp gaze. “What’s wrong?” Then, realization dawns on him, and he looks back to me, eyes wide. “Love, can you tell me everything that just happened?”

“I fought the Bogge, and sent Fauna for help—” But I reach my own realization through my fuzzying thoughts, and interrupt myself mid sentence. “Why didn’t Fauna tell you that it was the Bogge?”

His eyes soften, and he reaches up to cup my jaw. “Little flame, Fauna was found dead.”

My hearts stops. I swear it completely stops.

But my dizzied vision doesn’t go still. No, things start to blur more, and suddenly I’m spinning and whirling and— and coughing. I’m coughing.

My name is called, but it all seems so far away. I vaguely know that I’m being ripped away from Eris and into a grip of tanned skin and tattoos and—wings? Are those wings?

“Stay awake,” that voice says again.

Stay awake, and I think that one was my own voice.

And that’s the last thing I hear, crumpling in these tattooed arms as the world goes black.

All I know is that I am on fire.

My skin burns, and I remain in blackness. I am unable to open my eyes. Asleep. Comatose.

Every once in awhile, I’ll catch a voice or two. One that I thought was a medic explained that the Bogge Blood poison causes extreme fevers and hallucinations, and vivid fever dreams.

I have had many of those dreams.

They are not pleasant.

Another conversation I have heard was between Azriel and Rhys. Rhys has a mission for Azriel to go on, back in the Night Court. Something to do with Illyrian camps.

My sense of time is distorted, but I do know that it took a very long while to convince him to leave.

And I think I felt lips against my forehead.

Mostly, though, I hear Eris. I smell Eris. His scent is always nearby, and often I make out the sensation of him laying by my side.

A medic told him that I might be able to hear him, and since then he talks all the time. Sometimes through the bond, and sometimes out loud. He hums, or sings softly — even if Eris can’t sing to save his life, it’s nice.

He tells me about his day, about the time he wasn’t by my side.

He’s told me about his day six times.

I hope he’s just repeating himself, and that I haven’t been incapacitated for six days.

All the time, I try to communicate. I try to pry my heavy eyelids open, or part my lips to rasp a hello. But my body won’t cooperate.

My mind even struggles to put things together. I can’t figure out how to tug on the bond in this state. Every time I grasp my end of the string, it just wiggles away. Like it doesn’t want to be tugged.

It’s taunting me.

So I rest, mostly.

Right now, Eris is here, and there’s the etching of pen on paper. Surely doing paperwork. His scent is to my left, and one hand lays on mine.

“You know,” he starts, completely casual. “I, uh, fired half of my royal council today.”

If he didn’t have my full attention before, he sure as hell does now.

“One of them made a comment that at least this whole situation postpones you becoming High Lady. They’ll do anything to not have a female on the throne.”

I swear that my heart stops, and then shatters out onto the bed.

“A few of them laughed. I fired any of them that thought it was funny. And put them to death.”

That is such an Eris move. And I love it.

That inspires me to try with the bond again. I sharply reach out, grabbing the thread that connects me to the Vanserra male by my side. And I tug with all of my weight.

He flinches, and then goes very still. “…Love?”

I do it again. And then again, just out of the giddiness that I can actually communicate a bit.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” he laughs, and there’s a light shuffling. He sits up next to me, and there’s hands framing my face. “One tug for yes. Two for no.”

I give one tug.

“Can you hear me clearly?”

Yes. One tug.

“Can you communicate in any other way?”

No. Two tugs.

“Would you like me to stay, or do you want space?”

I give one very long and sharp pull on that thread.

“I’m taking that as a stay.”

Yes please. One tug.

“And you can’t move at all?”

No. Two tugs.

“Can you feel things?”

Yes. One tug.

I can feel his grin, and then he presses his lips to mine. “Can you feel this?”

Happiness flows through me, and I’m inspired to try to speak down the bond.

Yes, I manage, and my heart flutters in my chest. I can feel it.

He laughs and pulls me up to his chest, showering my hair and face with kisses. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

I’m on a roll, I mentally laugh, brushing a mind-finger against his consciousness lovingly. A minute ago I couldn’t do any of this. Give me an adrenaline shot and I’d bet I could wake up.

He nods eagerly, gently placing me back on the bed. The mattress shifts as he stands, his scent growing less pungent. “I’ll be right back, love.”

There’s a click of a door opening, but no close.

The air suddenly feels incredibly tense, and it makes my skin crawl. Something soothingly cool creeps up onto my wrist, calming the burning of my skin.

“Fantastic. It’s you,” Eris sneers, and the cool thing wraps a little tighter—almost protective. “I thought you were on a damn mission for once.”

“I was. For three days.”

“I know. I was counting. Seventy-two hours of bliss. With my mate.”

I consider the fact that Eris may be more bothered by this double-mate situation than he was showing.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Azriel replies in his most serene tone.

“She’s still completely out. Don’t bother her with the bond or anything. Let her rest.”

“Please let me by, Eris.”

There’s a scoff, a growl, and then some shuffling. The door clicks shut.

Suddenly, that cool band around my wrist is spreading. Up my arm, across my torso, and settling lightly over my forehead and the back of my neck. I think they may be Azriel’s shadows, attempting to cool my fever.

“I’m back,” he murmurs, and then the mattress dips. Lips are pressed to each of my cheeks. A hand slides over to take mine.

There’s a short silence, and then he gives the most gentle of tugs on the bond.

I tug back.

The shadows tense, and then roam once more, dancing across my skin in circular motions. I have to wonder whether they have their own consciousness; if so, are they happy?

“Did you do that?” he murmurs, and fingers trace my jaw.

Yes, I speak down the bond. I gained the strength to communicate this morning.

He hums in response, and then knuckles are gently pressed to my forehead. You’re still burning up, though.

I know. I can feel it.

Silence.

Thank you, by the way, I say, needing to focus harder to maintain my consciousness.

For what?

For breaking that vase. Gave me a good temporary weapon, even if it bit a little.

A low chuckle fills my ears, but I can feel myself sinking back into a dream.

How’d you know I broke that?

I wasss eavessdropping, I slur, trying to keep my speech steady and failing miserably. Sorrry. Hard to focus… I trail off, fighting sleep.

It’s alright. Rest. I’ll let Eris know. The mattress shifts, but I give him a very sharp tug on the bond, and he stills.

Stay. The shadowsss… are nice.

What I don’t tell him is that I know I’m sinking into a nightmare. And those concern Eris, I can feel the fear down the bond. I’d like Azriel to maybe be able to use the shadows to calm or wake me, and not bother Eris more.

Either way, a soft sigh is my answer, followed by his voice, out loud instead of down the thread of connection. “Of course. I’ll always stay.”

Burning and burning and burning.

I whirled around, eyes searching the ablaze building for an escape — any escape.

The voices outside called my family name, begging us to evacuate. They were nearly drowned out by the crackling of fire and crashing of wooden support beams, but they could be heard.

“Mother!” I shrieked, racing into the kitchen. “Mother! Mother!” I sighed, trying her true name. “Maeve! Maeve?”

The little girl clinging to my arm sobbed, and I turned to look at her — I had forgotten she was there. A neighbor girl who had raced in to play hero at the sight of the flames.

“Mae-”

And that’s where I found her.

Knife in hand, standing in the center of her bedroom. Matchbox at her feet. Fire encircled her— Fae gasoline in a ring around her feet.

“Mother?” I whispered, reaching out. “Did you do this? Did you— did you start the fire? It— It’s okay, but we have to get out—”

Only then did she turn to face me.

And only then could I see her wrists, slit and dripping blood — too much blood, too fast. Too much.

“Go,” she whispered, holding up her arms. “I am done now.”

I had to strangle back a sob, raising a hand to my throat. “No—no, we can fix this. We’ll get out, and I’ll use my own flame to contain the fire. Come on, mum,” I urged her, holding out a hand.

“No. This life has been long and lovely, and this is my time.”

I snarled then, growing impatient. “What would dad think? I’ll answer that for you: he’d say you were being ridiculous and crass—”

“Your father is dead. You know that.”

I recoiled at her words, clutching the sobbing girl a little closer. “You are dishonoring our family name with this act of selfishness.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

And she raised her hand, and then a beam of fire was falling between us. I shrieked, clutching the girl and stumbling back, out of the way as it crashed to the ground. I called her name once, twice, thrice more times, but no response came beyond the impenetrable wall of fire.

Even as I found an exit and herded the girl and I out, I was screaming. I never stopped screaming, and all there was was fire. Fire. And I was burning. And I really was, because people were avoiding me. My own flames were eating me alive, and my skin was hot, it was so hot, I was burning and burning and it would never end—

It’s not real.

Soothing, smooth voice. And suddenly I was burning even more.

I shoot up, coughing and coughing and wheezing and heaving. It’s so inexplicably difficult to pull oxygen into my lungs, as if they haven’t been used for decades.

I’m drenched in sweat, and my skin is still burning, and I’m awake. I’m awake, and— on fire. My skin is physically emitting flames, flames that I can see, that I can feel— I can feel that fire.

I whimper, my voice coming out strained. Hoarse. It makes sense, considering that I’ve been asleep for what—a week?

“Breathe love,” a voice to my left urges me, and I’m just now realizing that there is exactly one set of hands on me — Eris, with an arm around my shoulders and clutching my fiery hand.

I look up at him, blinking once, twice, and then deciding I don’t have time to be happy that he’s here because I am on fire.

“Help—” I manage to whisper, raising a blazing hand.

“I know, I know. Your magic has gotten away from you. Look at me. Focus on me,” he instructs, pulling me a little closer.

Eris, being the High Lord of fire himself, is not burned by me. He releases my hand and cups my jaw, forcing me to make eye contact.

I nearly sob, just at being able to see his face again.

“Pull your flames in, my love,” he says, with a kiss to my cheek. “I’m right here.”

I keep looking at him, staring at him, as my flames begin to subside. Taking long, steadying breaths, my magic begins to be reined in.

“Good,” he kisses my hair. “Good. You’ve got it.”

“Why— how… I’m awake,” I croak, finally getting the flames to settle into my too-warm skin.

“I got a medic to give you that adrenaline, and then, uhm, you lit yourself on fire.”

“Accidentally,” I scowl. “I wouldn’t intentionally go burning the medical wing down.”

Not like my mother.

“I know, little flame — you know, that nickname is a little too real now,” he chuckles, tugging me closer.

“I still like it,” I smile, nuzzling my face into his neck. “Even if it’s literal now.”

“Those were anything but ‘small’ flames,” an unfamiliar, feminine voice chimes in.

I flinch, pulling away from Eris’s grasp, coming eye-to-eye with an older female sporting deep brown eyes.

I have no idea who this female is, and my instinct screams at me to dive for a knife. But Eris’s grip around my shoulders tightens, and he gives me a look — he knows damn well I want to go for a weapon.

“This is Madja,” Azriel introduces (and, oops, I had forgotten he was there.) “She’s the Night Court’s very best healer.”

I nod slowly, but my hands cling to Eris’s button-down shirt. He sits next to me, letting my head fall against his shoulder.

Madja holds out a hand, and I warily shake it, my fingers twitching. “You’re definitely weak from the coma, but in better shape than I’d expect, for how long you were out.”

I frown, pulling back my hand. I know all of this already, and I open my mouth to say so, but Eris beats me to it.

“She’s fully medically trained,” my red-headed mate explains. “You can give her the full rundown.”

So, she does. Madja explains how long I was out (a week!) and any deficits I may have. She says that my fever is still quite high for her liking, but that me being awake and communicative is a good sign. She prescribes rest and hydration, and says that I may return to my room when I feel like it.

Madja gives me pills to take in case the poison — which still flows in my veins — causes any pain or other symptoms. She also tells me to send for her if there are any new developments.

With Madja leaving, I’m left in the room with my two mates. I sink back onto the blankets, and Eris moves with me, pushing hair out of my face.

My eyes, although hesitant, shift to Azriel. “Did you end up taking that knife back?”

He nods. “It’s called Truth Teller, and it always strikes true.” He pulls that beautiful knife out of a sheath at his side, and I get to admire it once more.

“It served me well. Thanks for hurling it at me.”

He chuckles, and Eris just scowls, picking at a piece of invisible lint on his shoulder.

But that knife brings back another memory, and I realize that I have many questions to ask about what exactly happened that day with the Bogge.

“Am I remembering correctly, when I say that Fauna was found dead?” I ask, glancing over to Eris.

The ginger male grimaces, and nods. “Yes. I’m so sorry, dove — I know she was your favorite.”

I frown, but that’s not the issue on my mind. “But how? How is she dead?”

That gets Azriel’s attention, and he joins in. “What do you mean? We assumed she went out, found the Bogge, was killed, and then you found the Bogge roaming the palace.”

I shake my head. Sitting up once more, I run a hand down my face. “No, no. I was going down to the safes to grab that necklace, Eris, you know which one. And then I found the Bogge in a closet, still in its creepy not-real mist form. I was avoiding it, doing just fine, hoping to keep it contained, but then Fauna caught up to me. She found the Bogge, acknowledged it, and it turned real. But I made sure she got away. She ran, with instructions to get help.”

Eris narrows his eyes. “I made sure the necklace was in place that morning. It should have been there.”

“Fauna said it wasn’t.”

Azriel cuts in once more, twirling Truth Teller in his hand. “Is that hallway the only way to get to the jewelry safes?”

Eris and I nod in confirmation.

“Then someone was trying to lure you straight to the Bogge.”

My blood runs cold.

Eris tenses by my side, but reaches up to run a hand through my hair anyway. Classic Eris, always worried about me.

But my mind lingers on that fact, taking me away from the current moment. I roll Azriel's words over and over in my mouth, until I come to the only viable conclusion.

Someone is trying to kill me.

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Part Five

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