I close my hand around his and that rush returns. My power lights up, whorls all the way up my wrist. The heat beneath my skin burns away what’s left of the silk.
“My Ren,” Méndez whimpers.
A hard breath shudders through me. I want to claw out any weakness I feel toward him. I look at Sayida, and I know what I have to do. He shouts as my bare hand grips his face. My palms tighten around his jaw and I don’t let go, my power coursing through my skin, driving its way through his mind, my fingers radiating a stronger light than I’ve ever seen before. I dig and dig, drawing out his memories one by one. They come to me quickly.
A young man standing in an empty cathedral staring up at the statue of the Father of Worlds.
Méndez fighting in the first war, before the King’s Wrath.
Méndez holding the lifeless body of a woman in his arms.
Méndez running in a yard, his hands reaching for a little girl with dark hair. “Lina!” he shouts. Her eyes dark as night with a laughter that echoes in his heart.
Méndez weeping before a coffin so small he carried it in his own arms. Lina will never, he thinks. Lina will never . . .
Méndez taking the hand of another girl. “Renata,” he calls her.
Then the memories spill too quickly for me to control, dark edges spilling into the center of my vision until there is gray and then total and complete darkness.
When I let go, I pull myself off Méndez. He lies completely still.
His body is alive. That’s how it is at first. A shell of a person. Slowly, he’ll fall into a deep sleep and never wake up. His body will starve until his heart gives out.
His salt-gray eyes stare at the ceiling. I shut my own as pinpricks of pain stab in my skull, the aftereffects of taking so many memories all at once. I stare at him for a long time. His eyes blink slowly, mouth slightly ajar.
A fate worse than death. Every memory. Every thought. The ability to make new ones. The name that sent fear into every person in Puerto Leones, Moria and not. Once the leader of the King’s Wrath, the Arm of Justice, my captor.
Now a Hollow.
Chapter 26
None of us look at Méndez, who lies slumped on the chair.
What remains of him.
I did this to him. Méndez arrives home from the war. He tries to wash blood out of his hands but can’t. “Papá!” A little girl calls to him. I gasp as I break from his memory. The little girl looked like me, but I heard what he called her. Lina. Is that why he cared for me the way he did? I want to scream. I want to get his memories out of my head and give them back.
“I need bandages,” Margo says frantically. Her shaking fingers are bloody as she wraps them around Sayida’s wounds. Esteban stands at the door keeping watch.
“How did they find you out?” I ask him, peeling bits of glove satin from my skin.
Esteban peers out the door, satisfied when he sees a lack of guards. He digs into his pockets for a slender flask and twists it open. “They ambushed us. After Margo was captured, we hid in a tavern cellar. A kitchen servant saw us and called the guards. They thought we were thieves at first, but I was wearing my metals to try to reach other Ventári. We were brought to Méndez and he used his Ventári on us.” He laughs at the irony. “On me.”
“You should’ve left without me,” Margo grumbles.
The most surprising yet is Sayida, who finds the strength to smile even as she trembles. “And miss this reunion?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster,” I say, smoothing back her matted hair.
“No time for blame, Ren.” Sayida sits up and winces as she cradles her arms against her chest. “Méndez was not lying. They know how to get through the pass and into our base.”
“We go to the elders,” Margo says at the same time I say, “We go to Soledad.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, then Esteban puts his hands up. “First we need to get out of here.”
“I need more cloth to make a sling,” Margo says. She looks around the room and hesitates at Méndez’s Hollow sitting unrestrained, unmoving, unresponsive in a chair. She unties his cravat and bandages it around Sayida’s arms. “There. Now what do we do with him?”
“I’ve never seen a Hollow before,” Esteban says, and I don’t miss the fear in his voice. He stands in front of Méndez. This man who caused so much pain, this man who took me from my family, who acted like my savior. This man who ruined my life is a living ghost.
“It’s almost too good for him, isn’t it?” says Esteban.
Who am I to decide that?
“We have to get out of here before the guards come to check on us,” Margo says, pillaging Méndez’s knives. She decides on a simple dagger with an ivory handle. That one goes in her boot. The smaller one has a diamond shape with a star on the iron hilt. She keeps that one in her hand.
I shut my eyes against the onslaught of the Gray cracking open. There are so many memories crowding my mind that I can’t figure out which are mine anymore. But I know that there’s something important. Something I should remember. Something about the weapon. The smell of salt air, the roar of crashing waves . . .
“Will you be okay?” Sayida asks me.
“I’m trying to sort out my memories from his. He’s seen the weapon.”
“Let’s get out of here first,” Margo says. “Before your mind splits open.”
She’s right, I need to get myself together long enough to escape. I examine my hands. My skin is red; the grooves of the metal leave bruised ripples on my skin. I remove the torn gloves.
“Keep the rubies. We can bribe the taxmen on the way back to Ángeles,” Esteban says.
I guide the Hollow Méndez to his feet. I stare into his stormy eyes. Unfocused. Empty. Lina will never, his voice whispers.
“Ren?”
I lift the hood of his robes low over his eyes. “Let’s go.”
As I watch Méndez walk in front of me, I swear to myself that I will atone for everything. I promise the Lady. For now, I give the Hollow a jostle between the shoulders and he keeps moving.
“It’s like steering a wagon,” Esteban mutters a few paces back.
Sayida hisses for silence, but even that echoes.
I have to hold Méndez around the arm to help him along. I’ve never made a Hollow willingly. When I was a child in the palace, I didn’t see them afterward. Méndez was careful enough not to let me after the first time. I let out a shaky breath as I guide him.
I tell myself that he’s killed hundreds, possibly thousands, in these dungeons. That he would have killed me. Sayida. My friends. Then why does seeing him like this make the vines around my heart twist just a little tighter? Maybe when I take everything from them, they take a little piece of me.
“Ren,” Sayida says. “This is a dead end.”
As if summoned by the fact that we have nowhere else to go, the sound of someone approaching echoes against the stones.
“There has to be a way out,” I say. “I saw it. Dez once came here and—”
“And he never escaped.” Margo takes out her stolen knives. “It’s too late. We fight our way out.”
A figure appears at the bottom of the stairwell. We’re stuck. Then I realize who it is. “Margo, don’t!”
Leo pulls his hood back, his green eyes catlike in the torchlight. His familiar smile is a welcome sight as he says, “Anywhere but the face.”
“You,” Margo says, lowering her stolen knife. She notices the cape, same as the one we saw earlier. “You brought us the food.”
“I did secure—” he begins to say, but stops as I throw my arms around his neck. He stumbles back, caught off guard, though I’m just as surprised as he is. It was an instinctive reaction, one I had been waiting a lifetime to give. He tries to chuckle, like this is just another ordinary day in the palace and we’re getting ready for supper or to spend the day with the lavanderas, but it isn’t. It will never be again.
“I was worried about you,” I whisper.
&n
bsp; His hands soften against my back, then we let go. “So was I. The entire palace has gathered its attention on the safety of the prince. The king thinks Méndez is handling you, but that won’t last long.” His gaze shifts to take in the state of the justice. A question lights up his eyes. I expect him to shrink away from me. I expect disgust. Instead, I see understanding.
“Well, it seems you’ve been busy,” he says. “I had planned to sneak you out the servants’ exit, but it would be risky.” He takes Méndez by the arm. “Without a justice.”
Margo grabs Leo before he can lead Méndez down a corridor.
“While I want to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Margo says, “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“I can explain now and let ourselves be caught, or we can walk, but we can’t do both,” Leo says, glancing over his shoulder.
“I trust him,” I say. “We can argue later, Margo.”
Leo turns on the heel of his polished boot and leads the way. He grabs a few sets of shackles, rusted and thick, and hands them to each of us. Esteban balks at the idea of being at the complete mercy of Leo, and I understand his concern, but we don’t have time to debate. I snap the shackles onto my wrists, trusting Leo with our lives.
Prisoners who are awake shout as we parade before their cells.
“We should free them,” I say. Davida’s face comes to mind. Good heart. Protect us all. “I have Méndez’s master key.”
“You can choose to save them,” Leo says. “But you’ll be sacrificing your own freedom.”
I hesitate. Then, with shame, I nod and follow Leo away from the other prisoners, vowing to come back, with greater numbers. In time.
When we reach the exit of the dungeon, we’re spat out into the courtyard. My back stiffens as I see guards posted along the perimeter, more than I’m used to. With Leo and Méndez in the lead, no one questions us. Though, if anyone looked closely, they’d see the vacant expression in Méndez’s eyes and the tight grip that Leo has on his arm as he leads him down the hall.
Instead of heading toward the front gate, Leo loops around to the side, as if going to the gardens in the back. We stop at a thick metal door, so rusted I wonder if it will even open.
“Once you’re outside the walls, go down the path for half a mile. It leads to the fish market,” he says.
“My trust only extends as far as I can see, and I cannot see beyond this door,” Margo remarks.
I open my mouth to defend him. He’s had more than enough opportunities to report me, but Leo nods at her, shutting me up, then looks at me.
“I lied to you, Lady Ren. When we met, I told you I was a stage actor, but there was more.”
We have to go. I know we do. But I need to hear this from him. “Tell me.”
“I’m from Citadela Zahara. I was with the Bandolino Company, traveling the kingdom. My husband was a Persuári. After he was killed I stopped performing and found employ with Lady Nuria. When her marriage to the prince was canceled, I was reassigned to Justice Méndez. I saw an opportunity to get messages for my mistress. Justice Méndez trusted me. I’m no rebel or leader, but I do what I can.”
The truth at last. We’ve danced around it enough times. I’m relieved that through all the confusion of the Gray, my memories, the politics of the palace, my instincts were correct: He was never one of them.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband,” Sayida says in her gentle way.
“We won’t get far once they notice we’re gone,” I say.
“You will if every guard is busy chasing after the other escaped prisoners.” Leo holds out a hand for the master key. The skin-on-skin sensation startles me for a moment when I hand it over, but he doesn’t even flinch.
You don’t deserve his trust, a voice whispers at me from the bleeding Gray.
“Do you know where the weapon was moved to?” Margo asks in that demanding way of hers.
“No, but maybe Méndez’s memories will help.” He looks at me questioningly.
I shake my head. There are so many. It would be too hard to sort through them. “No need. I know where to go. It was Lady Nuria who told me.”
Lady Nuria who gifted me this dress and told me a story she’d be jailed—maybe executed—for uttering out loud. The traitorous girl from Tresoros, daughter of queens. I bunch up my ruined dress stitched with platinum. I think of her warning to me during the queen’s garden party. How she could try to help us and love Castian so much, I still don’t understand.
“And we can trust her?” Esteban asks, his voice hoarse, like he’s spent hours screaming.
“Yes. Lady Nuria is”—Margo nods sharply in understanding before I need to go on—“a friend.”
Leo glances between us all and clears his throat. His features are grave, pleading almost. “Your secrecy is most important to my lady. It is the only way we can keep helping others.”
We turn to Margo, who extends her hand to Leo. For a moment, my worlds feel settled, bridged together.
“Which reminds me.” He reaches into his jacket and brings out a velvet pouch. “She can’t leave the palace without raising suspicions. But here is a parting gift.”
“Thank you, Leo. Thank her for me.”
“Lady Renata,” he says, and pulls me into an embrace. I breathe in his warmth, his laughter. He brought me back to life in a way I never expected anyone to. I owe him a debt and I promise to repay it. “I hope our paths cross again.”
“I have faith they will.”
“Thank you, Leo,” Sayida says, hugging him, even with her injured arms.
“May the Lady shine bright on your path,” Esteban says, and Margo shakes Leo’s hand.
My feet won’t budge because I am not ready to say goodbye to him.
“What will you do with Méndez?” I ask, buying time.
“I’ll bring him back to his chambers. Someone will find him there. It should give you a head start.”
As we leave the palace walls, I turn around just as he’s about to lock the door.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
“It was bound to happen,” he says, “but whatever about?”
“From where I’m standing, you look like a rebel to me.”
Chapter 27
The fish market is rank with dried guts, and scales glisten on the street like winking mica in a mine. The merchants and mongers are just rising, brushing wooden tables down with lye water.
Cool dry air fills my lungs as we keep to the shadows. The day after the festival has left the streets of the capital reeking of wine, piss, and vomit.
At least we are not alone in our bedraggled states—late-night revelers leave cantinas and brothels that have not stopped the celebrations. The cathedral and palace are looming shadows over us all.
“We have to move quickly,” Sayida says.
I shake my head. “Not on foot. We won’t make it.”
“What do you propose?” Margo asks, her head turned toward a rowdy street. Her fingers trace the hilt of her knife.
“Stay here,” I tell them, and break into a run out of the market and in the direction of the very place we want to get away from.
With the guards in different levels of disarray, this is the best moment we have. The courtyards at both entrances are filled with coaches and wagons, all left unattended. As a Whisper, I’ve learned bits of all trades, but the one I’ve always loved has been spending time with horses.
Or stealing them, rather. I spot two restless stallions with shimmering brown coats attached to a closed carriage. It’s modest enough, most likely belonging to a wealthy merchant or lord. When I approach, I see the Tresoros seal on the carriage—three mountain peaks with a sun at the center—and I know this is a stroke of luck. Lady Nuria won’t report it stolen—I’m sure she’s on our side.
I climb atop the coachman’s seat, click my tongue, pull on the reins, and return to my unit.
They hop into the closed carriage and I jerk the reins, clicking my tongue again until
the horses trot. I realize that no matter which way we go, we have to take the main road out. But that means retracing our steps from that awful day. The day that set all this in motion—the day I lost Dez.
As our stolen steeds trot out of the gate, I prepare myself for the bloody path that awaits me. King Fernando likes to display his victorious capture of treasonous rebels by lining the street with their severed heads on spikes. I am thankful that I am not up here alone. I am not ready to find Dez among them. Would I even recognize him at this point?
My heart stutters as a merchant and trade wagon passes us in the opposite direction, and the bloody path that was here two weeks ago is gone. It’s now replaced by the flags of each provincia and major citadela, which line the road alongside the purple-and-gold flags of Puerto Leones. The carriage door swings open, and because I’ve slowed down so much, the others jump out and take in the view. Sayida climbs onto the empty seat beside me.
“They’re all gone,” I whisper as we trot down the empty road.
Sayida nods, cradling her injured arms against her chest. Black ribbons of hair come undone from the braided crown around her head. “For some time now.”
“Why?” It’s not that I want them there on display. But now all I can think about is what they did with them, the heads, Dez. Where is his final resting place?
“This is the main road. I suppose the king did not want to show our foreign visitors his cruelty. It is one thing to hear about the things our king does. It is another to see them. Now he can deny that he is the monster we call him.”
When we get to the end of the road, I stop. Margo and Esteban climb out of the carriage again and the four of us squeeze up on the driver’s seat.
“I’m going to kill him,” I say. I have tasted blood once more, and now there is no going back.
“He does not deserve to take up space in your heart or mind,” Sayida reminds me.
I want to say it doesn’t matter, but as my blood rushes through me, I sit back and grip the reins. Esteban keeps an arm around Margo’s waist. We’re leaving the way we came, only a little worse for wear.
Incendiary (Hollow Crown) Page 34
