He rose from his cot, touched his fingers to the place over his heart, and drew a bloodsong. Blood was impervious to magic; it could not be altered. He could pull bloodsongs even though he wore an iron collar.
Desiderio winced in pain as the crimson skeins plumed through the water. Old memories were the easiest to pull. Ripened by time, they could be plucked like heavy fruit. New memories were more resistant. Their sharp edges snagged.
Astrid watched as sounds and images coalesced inside the bloodsong. She saw Desiderio’s border encampment with its tents and lava fires burning brightly in the darkness. Then she heard the sound of hippokamps charging. There were shouts and screams. And later, as the rays of the morning sun penetrated the waters, there were bodies. So many of them. She watched the rest of the bloodsong with a mixture of sorrow and anger. It was all exactly as Desiderio had said.
“I’m sorry,” Astrid said as the bloodsong faded. “Sorry that this happened. Sorry for being suspicious of you.”
“Why did she do it?” he asked, his voice ragged. Pulling bloodsongs had weakened him even more. “Why did she accuse me of plotting to attack Ondalina, when Ondalinian soldiers attacked me?”
“She’s trying to stir up fear of Miromara in my father and brother. So she can convince them to accept Portia Volnero’s deal.”
“Portia Volnero?” Desiderio echoed, confused. “Why is she brokering a deal with Ondalina?”
“Because she and Vallerio are bent on world domination,” Astrid said acidly. “Now that Lucia’s the regina—”
Desiderio stopped her. “Wait…what did you say? Lucia’s not Miromara’s regina, my mother is.”
“No, Lucia is. Ever since Cerulea was attacked and…” Astrid’s words fell away as Desiderio’s confusion deepened. Understanding dawned on her. “Oh, gods. You don’t know,” she said. “No one told you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Tell me, Astrid, please,” Desiderio said, his eyes huge in his face, his voice barely a whisper.
“I will,” Astrid said. Her heart ached for him, and for all the pain she was about to cause him. “But I think you’d better sit down first.”
“STOP IT, DESIDERIO. Stop it!” Astrid begged.
He was pulling against his chain, trying to free himself. Twisting and flailing with all his might.
“Stop. Please.”
If Desiderio heard her, he gave no sign of it.
Astrid had told him everything. He’d crumpled when he learned of his parents’ deaths. His grief had turned to fury when he found out how they died, and that fury only increased when Astrid told him what had happened to Sera, and how she was now leading the resistance.
When Astrid finished talking, Desiderio had started tugging desperately at his chain, trying to rip it out of the wall. He didn’t seem to know her anymore, or himself.
Astrid watched him, looking for her chance. Every few seconds, he would stop thrashing and be still, his chest working to draw breath. She tensed. When he stopped again, she sprang. “Look at me, Desiderio…look at me!” she hissed, grabbing his arms and holding them fast.
His eyes were wild. She could feel him straining to break her grip.
“Desiderio…” She took his face between her hands now. “I said, look. At. Me.”
Their faces were only inches apart now. He raised his eyes to hers. The anguish in their depths was terrible to see.
“I’m not going to tell you it’ll be all right. Because it won’t be,” Astrid said. “Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. But choking yourself to death in a dungeon cell won’t bring your parents back. It won’t help Sera. It won’t stop Vallerio or Rylka. Do you understand?”
Desiderio slowly nodded. The crazed look in his eyes receded.
“Okay. Good,” Astrid said, releasing him. “What we have to do now is get ourselves out of here and get to my father. I have to protect him from Rylka. And he has to protect you from Rylka.”
Desiderio shook his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Get ourselves out of here?” he repeated. “Have you somehow missed the fact that I’m chained to the wall of a cell in a dungeon?”
Astrid picked up the iron key ring she’d placed on the cell’s floor earlier. “I bet one of these will open your collar,” she said, swimming back to him.
She tried one key after another in the collar’s lock. On her fifth try, it opened. She pulled it off and tossed it aside, wincing at how it had rubbed his skin raw.
“Now one of these other keys will open the gate at the far end of this corridor. I’m sure of it. If we can just get to there, we’re free. I’m betting another key will open the door to this cell.”
“Maybe it will,” Desiderio said. “But that doesn’t help us. The lock’s on the outside.”
Astrid looked at the door and frowned, thwarted. Of course. The door was never meant to be opened from the inside.
“You could pretend you’re ill,” she suggested. “And tell the guard you need a doctor.”