After what they’d just encountered, he couldn’t help but hope his mother was right about his delicate princess being sturdier than their missives had indicated. How could any lady rule by his side if she feared his world as much as she feared her own? How would she be strong enough to take on his curse if she had no tolerance for pain and discomfort?
The skin at the edge of his sternum prickled, and he swallowed a groan along with the taste of metal. Such sensations accompanied the golden spread along his flesh. He was dying more every day. He didn’t have the luxury to wonder upon the logic of magic and prophecies, or to seek a princess who was perfectly matched for him and his brutal world.
He had to have faith: You will know her by her voice.
Attaching spikes with leather straps to their boot soles, his troop took the slow and treacherous decline along a winding outcrop of rock barely wide enough for man and horse side by side. The heavy press of darkness was softened only by the long, glossy stalactites catching flashes of amber eyes. Far, far below a bluish glow winked and wavered, like ripples in water. Smaller lights, the size of lightning bugs from these heights, hovered around it.
Other than the rustle of clothes, the gripping crunch of hooves and boots, and the occasional flapping of a tinder-bat, silence reigned until halfway down. Then the scrabbling foot-pricks of bone spiders set everyone on full alert. One passed through Vesper’s peripheral view—a shadow the size of Nysa. It scuttled up a slick, frozen waterfall using an anchor line of web as thick as a man’s arm. The creatures had white, brittle bodies the shape of winter squash, with six hinged legs and two pincer claws. They moved like crabs, but had long, snapping jaws with fangs opening side to side like scissors. Horses were their mortal enemy, prone to stomp through their delicate shells when spooked, so the spiders kept their distance.
The others had to stop and wait for Vesper to recover balance once or twice, his limp proving a cumbrance on the icy ledge. This cavernous journey always brought his flaws to surface: his blindness, his gimp leg, his inability to partake in silent conversations. But this time, the moment he stepped into the cave’s lowest plateau—heard the coughs and wails of dying stags, saw their once graceful, majestic forms fallen to decay and abuse—he forgot his imperfections as a man and remembered he was king.
A shimmering blue tunnel gilded the icy chamber with an incandescent glaze. Some of the stags flocked around the flickering passage that led upward into the ravine, others lapped hungrily at rock formations so long they reached to the ground, drawing nutrients from the mineral-rich stalactites and ice that encrusted every crevice of the caverns. These were still healthy and turned toward Vesper and his companions—pronged heads held high. The thick scales upon their backs and chests exuded such a bright gleam that Vesper had to squint. He was always surprised anew when seeing them up close, considering they appeared as small as fireflies from above.
The stags that laid beside decomposing corpses and hollow skeletons were sick, easy to spot as their scales were dulled to a dim gray. Vesper didn’t see a pile of antlers as Dyadia’s eye had; he did, however, see empty sockets upon two corpses’ heads and black blood, speckled with lambent glitters—reserves of the magic that filled their prongs. Their wounds tainted the air with a sour tang.
His stomach clenched and he moaned, sheathing his sword.
One of the stronger stags approached, head low, antlers gleaming and pointed toward them. Vesper stepped forward, putting himself between the creature and his troop.
“Brother.” Selena reached to pull him back. Her voice echoed in the cave, carrying notes of fear and awe. Even Nysa, on her rope, remained at his sister’s ankles, quietly observant as if she sensed the stags were dying.
“Selena, I’ve been here before. They know me.”
“Yes, but . . . they appear not to recognize anyone.” Remembering her place, she dropped her hand but finished her thought. “Perhaps Alger and Dolyn might take the lead.”
She had a point. Having used the glowing blue tunnel in their sun-smuggling days made them the logical choice to approach the stags. They’d passed this way many more times than he had.
But this wasn’t a typical passing through. There was a ritual: The creatures would form opposing lines and lift their heads, touching prongs, tip to tip, like the saber arch tradition for military weddings in his kingdom. Just as a bride and groom would stroll beneath the swords, the hopeful traveler would walk under and through the antler arch. It was the stags’ way of absorbing the impressions of those using the tunnel, to trigger a remembrance upon their return—a foolproof method to ensure anyone entering Nerezeth from this point belonged in the night realm. However, the creatures weren’t moving into any formation this time. They seemed disparate, unorganized.
They were vulnerable, and they’d lost their purpose.
Vesper glanced at the nine concerned faces behind him. “These are my gatekeepers, that I imprinted upon as a child. And they need me.” He dropped Lanthe’s reins. The others did the same with their horses and made to follow, but halted when Vesper raised a hand, forestalling them. “This is mine alone.” Though he’d lost his mental connection, he had to have faith that if magic could unite him with his other half, a girl he’d never met, it could bind these wild creatures’ loyalties to him for life, as it had every other night-king before him.
He took a second step.
The brumal stag charged backward, its panther-like claws scraping the icy floor. It lowered its head again in warning, releasing a threatening sound—part snort, part growl. The antlers caught a flash of light from the tunnel and sparkled—mesmerizing, yet deadly. The soft keening cries of the ill and dying in the background gave Vesper the courage to move forward two more steps, to take off his glove and open his palm, holding it low.
“I’m here to help, Beauty. I won’t harm you. I know my voice hasn’t been in your mind of late.” He lifted his brows, imploring. “But I’m still the prince . . . your king. Come closer. One sniff, and you’ll remember.”
The creature whipped its long tail, slender and white like a snake, with a bushy tip as iridescent as a pearl. It snorted, antlers raised and nostrils flared on a deep, misty breath. Its white eyes widened, then it bobbed its head, like a horse catching scent of something familiar, something beloved. It pranced forward and nuzzled Vesper’s hand. Vesper smiled and glanced over his shoulder where his companions looked on with astonished expressions.
When he scratched the stag’s pointed ears, he was rewarded with a blissful whinny. The horses whickered in response, as did the other healthy stags. Then one by one, each guardian pushed forward and insisted Vesper pet them, snuffling his bared palm as if it were coated with sugar and honey.
Moments later, Vesper made his way past the two corpses with severed antlers, hissing at the sight of them and the skeletons. He would see it all buried beneath rocks before he and his crew took the tunnel into the ravine.
Approaching the sick, he knelt, his heavy heart pulling him down. Selena’s hand squeezed his shoulder from behind as others of the troop befriended the healthy stags somewhere to the left of the cave.
“I feel so helpless,” he told her quietly.
She reached down to stroke the neck of the closest one. It bleated pitifully and its eyelids twitched, straining to open.
Cyprian knelt beside Vesper. He pulled off his skintight hood, leaving his shoulder length white hair mussed. The paint upon his face reflected the flickering lights of the tunnel—adding a gruesome and ironic element to the skull mask. He looked like death itself. It reminded Vesper of his own painted face. No wonder the stag had shied away from him at first.
“What has happened to their antlers?” his first knight asked.
“How are they being gored off to begin with?” Selena added. “As defensive as they are?”
Vesper clenched his jaw. “Not all of them are defensive. The sick ones have no fight left. If someone were to distract the stronger and lure them to other side of the cave, the weaker would be defenseless.”
“So, what is weakening them in the first place?” Selena asked. The ripples of light from the tunnel enhanced her pale skin—making it bluer than usual—and her hair and eyes reflected the phosphorescent glow. She looked like an angel. He wished she was, so she could heal his gatekeepers.
“I can’t imagine,” Vesper finally answered. “For centuries they’ve been all but invincible.”
The moment he said this, the stag his sister had been petting dragged its head toward Vesper’s bleeding arm. It brayed, its tongue flitting out. Puzzled, Vesper lowered his arm. With a strangely human sigh, the creature snuggled against his wound. In moments, its eyes opened and the scales upon its back brightened. It was gaining strength.
Vesper and Selena exchanged stunned glances.