“You look like your mother. Sound like her, too,” he says in Astrean. “When I see her in the After, I’ll give her your regards.”
I want to tell him not to be foolish, that we’ll meet again, but I know better than that. The next time I see them will be in the After, and I hope I won’t join them there for a long time yet. They go into this battle knowing they won’t come out the other side alive.
More people dying for me. And why? What have I done to deserve it?
“Thank you,” I say, and ignoring the stench, I step forward and kiss each of them on the cheek in turn. “May the gods guide you.”
“Long live the Queen of Astrea,” they recite back before Olaric snuffs out his fire again and their footsteps fall away.
I stay rooted to the spot until I can’t hear them anymore. Finally, S?ren puts a hand on my waist and guides me forward. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, but after we turn another corner, he clears his throat.
“I don’t know any of my father’s men who would willingly die for him,” he says. “Your people love you.”
“They don’t even know me,” I say. They wouldn’t lift a finger for me if they knew the things I’ve done. “But they loved my mother more than enough to make up for it.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that, and I’m glad, because I’m not sure what I want to hear. The Guardians’ words keep repeating in my mind, burning through me with enough hope to keep me putting one foot in front of the next into an uncertain future. You really are Ampelio’s daughter. You look like your mother. Sound like her, too. Long live the Queen of Astrea.
FOOTSTEPS GROW LOUDER BEHIND US as I wind through the maze of dank, dark hallways, running my hands over the walls, looking for the hidden passageway. The sound is heavy and synchronized. Soldiers. They’re still far away, but they’re approaching fast. Underneath that, I hear the sounds of a fight: shouts of surprise, cries of pain, the thud of bodies landing heavily on the stone floor. S?ren listens intently while I search for the hole, more desperate than ever.
“They’re a couple of minutes away,” he says. I can hear the fear beneath his calm. “It’s only a few men—three or four, maybe—but they have dogs tracking us. The rest stayed behind to fight your friends. They aren’t going down easily.”
“And how many can you manage if they catch us?” I ask him.
He hesitates. “Depends on who it is. If it were me commanding, I’d send the strongest ahead. We’re the priority; your friends are just an obstacle. In that case, one or two. If I’m lucky.”
“Those aren’t inspiring odds,” I say, desperately searching the walls.
“Which is why I suggest you hurry,” he says. He fumbles around in his jacket, then nudges my arm with something blunt. I reach out to take it and realize it’s the hilt of my dagger, the one I nearly stabbed him with. “Just in case,” he whispers.
“Thank you,” I say, keeping it clutched in my left hand and going back to feeling the wall with my right.
I don’t remember it being this dark. When I was here as a child, I could see things better. For all I know, we passed the hole ages ago or made a wrong turn somewhere. Memory is such a fallible thing. Still, I drag my fingers over the rough, craggy stones, even as they begin to bleed.
A dog barks, and I don’t need S?ren to tell me they’re closing in now. I press on faster, my mind a frantic blur. I must focus. All I can think of is this wall and my fingers. All I can think of is getting out.
The hole is so small I almost miss it. In the dark, I can’t be sure it’s what I remember—but it has to be, because the warriors are so close now that I can almost smell them. It has to be or we are dead.
“Thora,” S?ren warns, but I ignore him and draw my dagger.
Unsheathing it, I press the tip into the hole in the stone, pushing so hard I’m worried I’ll break the dagger altogether. The footsteps are so loud I can’t hear anything else, not even the sound of the tunnel door opening.
I fall through it.
* * *
—
I hear the splash before my skin registers the shock of the cold water, but when I hit, it turns my skin to ice. I push myself up on my hands. It’s a stream. Though it’s only a few inches deep, it ebbs and flows, and I suppose it must lead to the ocean.
“Thora?” S?ren whispers, stepping in with more grace than I did and closing the door behind him. It’s dark here as well, but there’s some kind of dim light coming from the distance, just enough to see a few inches in front of me.
“I’m fine,” I say, taking his hand and climbing to my feet.
I step back through the water to listen at the sealed door, S?ren at my side. I can hear warriors thunder past. It’s only seconds before the dogs double back, stop, and begin barking and snarling on the other side.
One of the warriors shoves against the wall and S?ren grips my hand in his. I can nearly feel his pulse racing, and I squeeze back just as tightly.
The door holds, not giving so much as a breath, and the warrior curses at the dogs, trying to drag them away, but they don’t budge.
“Leave them,” another warrior says. “This deep in, the dogs lost the scent, but there’s no way out. She can hide, but we’ll find her before sunrise.”
The footsteps hurry away and I feel S?ren relax next to me, though he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Come on,” I whisper, setting off down the tunnel.
The icy water gets deeper with each step, soaking my skirt and legs. Before long, we’re in knee-deep and my legs are numb. I don’t remember having to swim out of the tunnel when I was a child. Blaise and I walked right out to the shore, never going deeper in than our ankles. But that must have been low tide.
“You’re shaking,” he says, and I realize I am. The air is even colder than it was in the dungeon, and my dress is soaked. “Take my cloak.”
Ever the gentleman, I think before putting a hand out to stop him. “I’d imagine you’ll need it soon, too.”
“I’ll be fine,” he insists, sliding it from his shoulders and passing it to me.
I hold it gingerly in my arms. The lining of the coat is studded with Fire Gems, I remember, a perfect way to stay warm in the winter. I’ve gotten used to ignoring the draw over years of being surrounded by them, but this close, the power calls to me. It buzzes through my blood and mind. If I wore the cloak, I could be unstoppable. All those Fire Gems, all that power.
We come to the fork in the tunnel: the water rushes to the left—the side that must lead to the ocean—but the other side inches uphill. That way goes to the throne room. The Kaiser is surely there, and he surely knows I’ve escaped by now. I can see his face—that furious, bloated red face—as he sits on my mother’s throne and blusters threats at his guards.
How simple would it be to start a fire? I haven’t tried it, but I’ve seen Kalovaxians light fireplaces with the aid of a few Fire Gems. It can’t be that difficult, especially since I have the blood of Houzzah in my veins. I imagine watching the fire grow and grow and swallow the palace and everyone in it who ever hurt the people I love. For an instant, I think about ending this now. I could do it; it would even be easy, but it would cost me.
In one act of sacrilege, I would give up my chance to see my mother and Ampelio again. The gods would damn me, and they just might damn my country as well. I don’t know if I believe that. I can’t help but think about Artemisia and her lack of belief in the gods. After everything my country has suffered, I don’t know if my mind believes in them anymore either. But I can still feel them in my heart, in the stories my mother told me. I want to believe in them.
“I can’t take this,” I tell S?ren, though passing the cloak back is one of the hardest things I’ve done. He frowns. “Why not?”