A Fate of Wrath & Flame (Fate & Flame 1)

“Actually, no. There’s the whole ‘bringing women to his bedroom to feed on them’ issue. I’d say we have a few too many hurdles to overcome.”

“He does not enjoy it, if that makes any difference to you.”

“He sure looked like he did,” I mutter before I can stop myself. But I’ve seen and heard enough to suspect that what she says is true. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

She shrugs. “Most would scheme and kill and trip over themselves to be in your position, even if it’s nothing more than a farce.”

“I’m not like most around here. I don’t have any interest in being a queen. And besides, Zander likes obedient women, remember? I can’t even pretend to be that.”

“That is not the woman for Zander.” She shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I do not think my brother hates you any longer. Or at least, he’s beginning to separate this incarnation from the previous version.” She gestures ahead of us. “Here it is. The nymphaeum.”

I study the stone pavilion and its unadorned surroundings—a stretch of meticulously groomed lawn banked on three sides by tall cedar hedges but otherwise, there are no shrubs or flower beds. The open structure itself reminds me of something that might belong in a cemetery, the four corners comprised of pillars with carvings of the fates. In the center is a simple rectangular stone block maybe seven feet long by two feet wide and a foot high. The back is closed off with a wall decorated in an intricate swirling design.

“This is it?”

“You sound underwhelmed.”

“I just expected something … different.” I step onto the base. It’s not a sacred garden. It’s like an open tomb. And it’s small. I doubt it could fit five people. And where are these nymphs that have supposedly been banished here?

Her musical laughter carries. “Most do.”

Above the block—an altar, perhaps?—is a circular opening in the roof.

“To allow the blood moon’s light to shine in,” Annika explains, following my gaze.

To shine onto the stone.

I press my hand against its cool, smooth surface. Is this the stone Malachi means? There is no “retrieving” this. It must weigh several tons.

“You would not believe how many offspring have been produced on that spot.”

I peel my hand away, earning her tittering laughter. It dawns on me. “When Wendeline said people come to the nymphaeum to be blessed, she meant …”

“They must take the stone and go through the act of conceiving, yes. That is how children are produced. Do you require lessons on that? I’m sure my brother would be willing to explain it all to you,” she teases.

“Oh, I’m sure.” I mock. “But right here. Out in the open. Taking turns.” Wendeline said hundreds of immortals beg to use the nymphaeum every Hudem. I study the long path leading here. Is that where they all line up?

“Their desire for breeding outweighs their need for privacy. And besides, what does it matter? We assume the nymphs are somehow watching it all. They were known to be devilish creatures.”

“Islorians are strange,” I mutter, circling the sex altar. But Annika’s words trickle down my spine like icy water.

She said they must take the stone.

Iam supposed to take a stone in the nymphaeum.

Is this what Sofie meant? Did she mislead me in her choice of words? Does retrieving this stone for Malachi mean lying on my back for one of these Islorians in some bizarre ritual? One that would produce a child?

No wonder she didn’t tell me. A flare of anger sparks as I realize I’ve likely been duped. And if she was lying about this, what else has she lied about?

“Something troubles you?” Annika asks.

I’m scowling. I smooth my expression, refocusing on the stone altar and on the little that I know of this nymphaeum. An eeriness clings to the air—of many years and countless histories untold. “Wendeline said Farren came here to open a door for Malachi.”

“You are such an astute pupil,” she mocks, but then points behind me. “That is the door.”

I study the wall of stone and the odd alphabet carved into it in a swirling pattern. For something so old, it is preserved as if etched just yesterday. “What language is this?”

“The language of the nymphs. We cannot read it. No one can, not even the casters. Believe me, they have tried.”