City Of The Damned (Darkly Devoted Series, Book 5)

Chapter 19

-Blake "Oslen" Thorne-

Home.

It was a strange word with a myriad of different meanings. For much of his life, Oslen believed his home to be a decaying manor on the edge of a river. Then, one day, with a sip from that enchanted lake named Tahil, all that changed. Suddenly, home became a city built on an island.

Now, as he entered the palace of the dead, with its lifeless stone walls and soul-freezing, unbreathable cold air, he realized home was not a place. Home was a person.

This girl leading him on with a wicked smile on her face was his home. Melody had always been his last place of refuge and his very reason for living.

The amber-colored rock she held in her fingers seemed to call to him. Oslen hadn't resisted Melody's offer to enter the palace by his side as strongly as he should have. He didn't because he knew he wasn't emerging from the stone doors that closed behind them. This place would be his grave. If she had stayed behind, waited at the entrance, it would have been one more promise that he would have had to break.

Then, when he was dead, she would be left with the choice of walking into the sunlight with the gem to finish his task. He didn't want that for her.

Perhaps he could strike a bargain with Grismal or with the Powers That Be residing inside that Blood Star—his life for hers—perhaps, for once, they would listen. It was a ridiculous idea, but with every second that passed, the shimmer of that rock seemed to echo the beat of his own mortal heart.

The gem heard his wishes. Could it hear him? Was he losing his mind?

"I saw Allison," Melody mused. She was always good at pretending to be cheerful when the situation was at its most dire. She led him to a mountainous stairwell that looked as though it had been built for giants. These stairs had since fallen into disrepair, and every step was hazardous to those who tried to climb it.

Even though Oslen hadn't been inside this palace for more than a few minutes, he deduced that it was no mortal plane. The walls changed with the mental state of those who inhabited it, or rather, the ones who ruled it. Perhaps Grismal had sensed they had arrived and was actively trying to keep them away.

Melody didn't appear perturbed by the grim decor. She glided along like a haunted ballerina, dancing to her own ghostly tune. She smiled as she coaxed him up the stairs.

"She spoke of a someone named Eirik. Do you know who that might be?"

Oslen smiled despite himself. For a moment, his memories took him away from this place and its hopeless mission. "Yes, I knew an Eirik. Long dead, of course. Did she tell you what happened back then?"

"Allison is dead too," Melody whispered. For a second, her face fell, and Oslen saw her true feelings surface. She had been so artfully cultivating her facade of strength and bravery that a truly good memory registered on her face as sadness.

It was all right. They were both silently bidding farewell to the world of the living. Oslen wanted to wrap his arms around her, smooth back her lush black hair, and kiss her forehead. He did it reflexively to comfort her, but secretly, his hand twitched. Even now, he wanted to snatch that gem from her clenched fist again. There was no point in trying. He knew it was futile. There was no time to reconsider. With the blink of an eye, Vivienne was gone, and Melody returned. She leaped backward onto a ledge and beckoned him forward.

Oslen didn't have the catlike grace that his wife possessed. Even before he injured his left leg, he was never the type to jump about on bare feet. Perhaps that was a time when they were young that he would have felt the need to outrun her, but not anymore. Now, he sighed and took his time climbing the stairs. There was no hurry to find the owner of this palace. They had an eternity and a day.