The head of the Guard says, “While he has the Creator in a situation that simulates death? Absolutely.”
“If I’d wanted her dead,” Bios snaps, “she’d be so already. I could have unleashed any one of a million different viruses or bacteria I’ve cultivated over the ages. She would be writhing on the floor, bleeding from every orifice, and you’d be helpless to stop it. Are you all so inbred that you do not retain information? I have sworn repeatedly to keep her safe as long as we are down in this hiding space. She will be in no danger in my memories. And I have already conceded to allow the Empath in. I would invite you all, but I know the need you harbor to ensure their safety. So, sit and watch, child of Cailleache, and say no more unless it will aid your cause.”
Anger flares in Zthane’s eyes.
“Jonah,” Kellan warns, but apparently, Jonah has made up his mind to back me. So he turns to me and says, “Chloe. Don’t do this. Please. I’m begging you.”
“So interesting, these bonds,” Bios murmurs. “What a cruel trick Rudshivar has played upon you all. He was always a twisted bastard when it came to emotions.”
I ignore this, instead focusing on Kellan. “We need this. You know we do.”
“Then let me do it,” he says. “Or Jonah. But not you.”
“I can’t fight what I don’t know,” I whisper. “Don’t let me stay blind. I’m the only one who can take Enlilkian out. I need to find out everything I can to beat him, Kellan.”
He takes a deep breath. Since that night on the rooftop in which I told him I chose Jonah, Kellan’s been very careful not to expose his feelings for me much. Even after the accidents, when I knew him to be terrified and torn apart, he still managed to keep things under control, especially around others. To see him show this piece of worry in front of Zthane makes part of me want to acquiesce. But the other part, the one that remembers all of the threats my loved ones face, knows I need to accumulate as much ammunition against Enlilkian as possible. Because I could lay down good money that Bios, who has been hinting for some time his displeasure with his father, wants to do more than simply show me his former visage.
“Kel,” Jonah says quietly. “You will not lose us today.”
Zthane looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the rare display of all three of our tangled emotions, but Bios watches in utter fascination.
“Do not worry, Empath,” he says in the kindest tone I’ve heard from him so far, “I will deliver them back to you in the same state you see them in now. If not, then you may do your worst to me, and I will not struggle once. You have my word.”
Minutes later, I’ve extended his chains so he is sitting in front of us, forming a small circle of clasped hands. He tells us to close our eyes, reminds Zthane and Kellan not to be worried about our appearances, and then murmurs something in the language I’d heard Enlilkian use on the roof the day he murdered my father.
The next thing I know, Jonah and I are in an elaborate room decorated in precious metals. Only, this isn’t like any room I’ve ever seen before. The walls are made of bark.
“Do not worry. This is not Enlilkian’s tree,” says a voice from behind us.
The speaker takes my breath away. He is tall—taller than even Karl, even—and sculpted in the way that reminds me of statues found in museums. And then I’m averting my eyes, because these muscles are completely visible thanks to a single, tiny scrap (and I mean that literally, as it’s ridiculously tiny and gauzy) of white linen dipping across his pelvis. His skin is white—not peach that is called white, but a genuine white—that darkens gradually mid-torso to a rich brown. The brown then darkens into a genuine black at the upper thighs and continues all the way to his feet. As promised, his hair is every color: shades of red, blonde, brunette, and black all mingle together alongside sterling grays and whites. A step closer by Bios proves his eyes to be kaleidoscopes of colors swirling about. And, if these features weren’t enough to stun a person into silence, the faint glow emitting from his skin does the trick.
“This one was mine.” He wanders over to a paneless window. “It had a beautiful view, did it not?” Beyond him is a stunning, picturesque landscape that reaches as far as the eye can see. “But I did not bring you two here for idle, irrelevant chit-chat. I came here because there are things I am not physically allowed to say to you while housed in the body Enlilkian forced me in. No one, however, has forbidden a conversation here.”
He ushers us toward a pair of chairs before lounging in a throne-like chair made of branches studded with gemstone. “I thought we were going to see a memory,” I murmur.
“You are in a memory.” All the colors in his eyes turn melancholy. “This place only exists in memory nowadays. I tried visiting it once, but my tree no longer grows. Concrete has flattened the land.”