If one thing was clear at this point, it was that she should turn around and scurry back to her quarters. She could still pretend that she hadn’t snuck into Bael’s chambers uninvited, when he’d explicitly told her to stay away. We should keep our distance, he’d said.
But she knew he was hiding something from her. She was a warrior now, and she’d do whatever it took to learn about her opponent.
Why, exactly, was she worried about protecting his feelings and his request for privacy, when in a couple of days he’d be ramming a knife into her heart, ushering her into the void with a violent death?
If she wanted any hope of walking out of that arena alive, she’d better learn everything she could about her greatest adversary.
She rested the mushroom on the stone behind the throne, and it cast a dim violet light on the rope ladder until it dwindled into darkness.
She climbed over the cliff’s side, gripping tightly to the rope. Once she had both feet firmly on the rungs, she retrieved the glowing mushroom, clinging to its stem as she slowly climbed down. With each step down, the shadows seemed to close in, darkening the mushroom’s light.
A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. I can’t tell if I’m brilliant or a complete moron. That would all depend on the outcome of this particular excursion.
The ladder swung as she moved, but it seemed to be anchored at the bottom. She peered down at the heavy darkness. Her pulse began to race. Was there an end to this descent?
Her breath came faster. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. But as soon as her eyes were shut, a vision flashed in her mind: Bael piercing her chest with a dagger.
Bollocks. The vision was becoming so clear, it felt like a premonition more than a nightmare.
Focus on the task at hand, Ursula. She stepped down another rung. Release foot. Move free hand down a rung. Carefully unclasp the hand with the mushroom. Repeat the entire process again.
Just when she was certain she’d be climbing for the rest of eternity, her foot brushed against a gravel floor. She tentatively released the rope, shocked to find the solid ground beneath her. Fatigue burned through her muscles, shaking her legs.
The fungus illuminated rocky walls and a rocky room, covered in antiques. What the hell?
At one end, the walls narrowed into a tunnel—perhaps where Bael and his friend had gone. And the rest of the space was covered in curiosities: an old ship’s clock propped on a dusty table, a stuffed raven in a cage, a horned demon’s skull in a bell jar, furniture covered in draped sheets. And propped on a wooden stand, the corkscrew she’d used to stab Bael.
Apparently, this was Bael’s storage space.
As she scanned the room, her gaze landed on an overturned picture frame next to the ship’s clock. When she flipped it over, her stomach swooped. Bael’s beautiful wife stared back at her, her brown eyes sad and serious.
Ursula ran her finger over the hole in the painting. Why did he put you down here?
She turned it over on the table again exactly where she’d found it. She could try to work out the Freudian complexities of Bael’s psyche another time. Perhaps, if she managed to survive the duel.
Further down the tunnel, a shout echoed off the rock, and her heart began to thump. If she was going to follow the sound of the voices, she needed a weapon.
Her pulse speeding up, she crouched, pulling out a box from below the table. She rummaged through old compasses and tools until she found the obsidian blade—the one Cera had given her. I do believe this belongs to me.
Her feet crunched over the gravel as she crossed to the tunnel, gripping the knife in one hand and the mushroom in the other.
As she made her way through the tunnel, the fungus glowed over runes and twisting symbols carved into the walls—the same ones she’d seen in the passage above.
At the end of the tunnel, a pale light glowed. And as she drew nearer to the light, she pressed against the tunnel wall, hoping to remain unnoticed. Here, the air grew thick with humidity. A high-pitched squawk echoed off the walls.
She peered around the corner. Much like the passage to Bael’s throne room, this passage also opened into a larger chamber. Among a sea of darkness, luminescent mushrooms lit the air. The warm air had an earthy, fungal aroma, and her skin dampened. She wiped a hand across the back of her forehead.
This must be the rookery she had flown through with Cera on her way to the melee.
A gravel path wound through the forest of mushrooms. She dropped her little toadstool by the entrance to the passage and followed the path.
Chapter 40
Up close, the mushrooms were even bigger than she’d realized—the size of elms. They glowed a faint cornflower blue.