The Deathsinger: Book 2

Ch. 31: The Other Side

When I reached to open the door, Remiel put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head. My arm dropped to my side as he pushed me behind him. It was shameful how relieved I was that he was going first, but I didn't have time to dwell on my cowardice as the door swung open with a keening groan.

Gripping his arm with both hands, I pushed up on my toes and peeked into the stairwell. Beyond a dank stench that made me want to rub my nose and darkness, there was nothing that suggested danger. I held my breath, straining to hear anything that might be lying in wait at the bottom, but I heard nothing. Honestly, it might have been a bit anticlimactic if Remiel's expression hadn't remained pinched with worry as he took the first step down.

"Perhaps you should stay up here," he suggested when I moved to follow him.

A part of me cheered at the thought, but it was a small, insignificant part, easily overwhelmed by the panic that speared through my chest at the thought of leaving Remiel to face whatever lurked below alone. If he was harmed to keep me safe, I would never recover. That was enough to banish all my fears.

"No. You need me," I replied, folding my arms over my chest as obstinance drew his brows into a straight line over his brown eyes. "You don't know what you're looking for."

"I'm not convinced you know either," he muttered. "I can at least go down and make sure there's nothing there."

"And how can you do that if you can't see?"

I held up my hand and let flames dance along my fingertips. The fire answered so much better now, leaping to my command with only a thought, and the fear that used to choke me whenever I saw fire so close to my skin was little more than a dull worry. Remiel watched the fire for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. I nudged ahead of him, holding my hand aloft and urging the flames to move to my palm.

Something close to a growl rumbled his chest, and he pulled me against his chest. "You don't need to be in front."

"I'm lighting the way."

"Morana–"

"Remiel," I said, infusing his name with the same amount of exasperation as he put into mine. "I'm not entirely without defenses. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

We were halfway down the stairs now. There was nothing but cobwebs and damp stone walls. But even with my light, the floor below wasn't visible.

"Unless this is more of an ego thing."

"Darling," he purred, hunching over so his mouth was near my ear. "I do believe you're confusing me with someone else. Someone who likes his women weak and dependent on him."

Tievel's name hung unspoken in the air. Remiel wasn't wrong. The prince had wanted to keep me weak because weak meant easily manipulated. Easily used. It had taken me a long time to realize that Tievel hadn't really been hurt by the discovery that I was a Deathsinger. Rather, he had disliked knowing I had power.

"And how do you like your women?" I asked breathlessly. The answer was obvious. He had always supported my attempts to empower myself, but I wanted to hear him say it.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Woman, Morana. There's only one for me, and I–"

I pitched forward, thrown off by the larger drop between the last step and the floor. Remiel caught me around the waist, steadying me before letting me go. Ribbons of shadow spooled around him, somehow blacker than the surrounding darkness. They didn't fade or dim when they neared my fire.

"Here," I said, spying a torch in a sconce on the wall. It caught fire easily and revealed four more torches spread about the circular room. I lit each one, flooding the space with welcome light.