“Wait,” I called out.
Alarmed, Amir met my eyes. “What is it, Talia?” He moved to join me. “Have you sensed something?”
Despite my best efforts, a tear had formed in the corner of my eye. “Are you sure this is worth the risk?”
He covered my left hand with his, holding it in place in my lap. Lit from below by the stone in my right hand, Amir’s features would’ve seemed menacing if not for the genuine concern flashing in his eyes.
“Are you scared?”
I pulled my hand out from beneath his and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I couldn’t deal with his touch. Not at that moment. It was too distracting, too difficult to process, given it was meant only to comfort and nothing more.
“I suppose I am. We’ve no idea what’s up there.”
“No, we don’t.” He positioned himself on the same step as me but on the opposite end, and interlaced his fingers as he gazed at the floor. “But we’ve found the way in. Surely we have a responsibility to press on?”
A responsibility? To whom? There was nobody Amir owed his life to. Few men grew up as he did, surrounded by privilege and afforded every opportunity one could imagine, yet still possessed such a selfless heart. That meant something. Not just to me, but to the people he’d one day rule as a just and compassionate king. They needed him to live as much as I did. His parents, surely, had not really meant what they said before he left. They loved Amir. They would never disinherit him, even if we did fail.
“Talia, you’re the most adept caster in my parents’ kingdom. If anyone can protect us, it’s you.”
He had such faith in me. I didn’t understand why. Yes, I might have been born with the sight, with an ability to manipulate the energies around me, but the person responsible for the sleeping curse could do so much more. Tanit could create energy. And destroy it.
“You’re willing to bet your life on my abilities?”
He closed his eyes, touching his fingertips to his lips. “Yes.”
“Do you want to marry this princess?” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. The prince and I had become fairly comfortable with each other over the past couple of weeks, but we’d never once broached the topic of what would happen after Aurora woke. We’d silently designated the topic taboo.
Amir shifted his weight, the heels of his boots scraping across an uneven stone. “It’s what must happen.” His tone was devoid of emotion, like a tutor reading from an unfamiliar text.
I bit my lower lip, thinking of the predicament Grimvein’s ruling family found themselves in, of the power-mad ruler to the north claiming sovereignty over not just her own kingdom, but all of them. “Because of Braedon.”
“Because of Braedon.” His voice was solemn. “We need Oldpass. Only an alliance will provide adequate protection from that blasted mad woman’s forces. Braedon’s queen threatens to invade and so my parents threaten disinheritance. I’m not sure who is more desperate, she or they.”
I rubbed at my forehead for a moment. “It’s a matter of duty, then.” I’d known this already, but his avoidance of my original question gave me some glimmer of hope. Perhaps he didn’t feel drawn to Aurora, as he would have if he were really linked to her by destiny. If he were bound to the princess by magic, by love, he should have been able to feel her calling to him. He should have felt compelled to find her.
“Everything in my life is a matter of duty, Talia. But if we really do have the ability to save this woman, we should. She’s been stuck here for a hundred years, and not just her, but every other person who didn’t leave before she drew blood on that spindle.”
“You’re right.” I sighed. Damn his wisdom. His altruism. “Who knows how many people have missed out on a huge piece of their lives because of Tanit’s vengeance? We should help them.”
“We should,” he echoed. We let the heavy silence hang between us for a few seconds. “Feel better now?”
I forced a smile. “A little. If we do find Aurora Rose, there won’t be much I can do to wake her. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” He leaned back to rest on his elbows. “The curse requires true love’s kiss. I’ve no idea if such a thing as true love really exists, but perhaps, if we work together, we can find a way to rouse her.”
“It does exist.” My words were blunt, but honest. “It’s the purest form of magic in the universe. That’s why it can break even the darkest, most powerful spell.”
“But how can true love exist between people who’ve never even met? It seems impossible.”
“No, it’s possible.” I felt my confidence returning, as it always did when we discussed immortal forces. “It is there before you meet. You just don’t acknowledge or understand it. All the moments that come after that first meeting only serve to help you believe, to help you trust that the electricity passing between you is real.”
He sat upright and considered me, his eyes intense and serious. “That’s beautiful.”
You’re beautiful. How badly I wanted to say the words. My chest tightened as I fought the urge to lean forward, to take his hand, to tell him that even though I was terrified of what might wait for us above, I’d never wanted to be anywhere else more than I wanted to be there, with him. Well, almost never.
The memory of Red’s spirit entwining with mine, strengthening me, protecting me, pulled me out of the world of fantasy and back into the real world. At least there was one thing that could drag me out of that vortex of fantasy and desire. One thing strong enough to pull me in another, albeit hopeless, direction.
I swallowed, forcing the misshapen, grainy lump in my throat back into my stomach where I could best control it. “Yes, well, I interrupted you.” I shifted my gaze to the hatch. “Was it starting to budge?”
He followed my line of sight and nodded. “It’s old, the hinges are rusty, but yes, I think it will yield.”
Using a technique my predecessor had taught me, I worked at regaining my strength as he worked at the hatch. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the in-and-out rhythm of my breathing. I extracted the nutrients offered by the air, by the mystical particles hidden deep within the molecules of each inhalation. I envisioned their journey through my body, forcing my muscles to accept the healing properties of nature’s purest and smallest gifts.
My eyes opened when I heard the distinct screech of rusty hinges giving way. Amir huffed as he straightened his legs one last time. The hatch swung open, banging against the ground as it found its destination, and Amir stood straight. After the muted glow of my moonbeam stone, the fierce natural light that flooded the stairway forced me to turn away, and I hissed like a threatened cat.
“Are you all right?” Amir said.
I blinked several times and returned my stone to its pouch. “Yes, I’m fine. I seem to have forgotten what daylight looks like.”
“It doesn’t take long.” He offered me his hand. I hesitated at first, but there was no real reason to turn down such a simple gesture. I slid my hand into his and used it to stand.
“Thanks.” I dusted off my pants and readjusted my cloak. “Nice work,” I said as we both emerged into the courtyard. “Wow.”
Bordered by a colonnade, the centre of the royal palace had succumbed to golden vines and pink wisteria that choked every surface and artefact in the area. Weeds and grasses broke through ornate marble tiles, some having toppled decorative outdoor chairs. Children of the goddess, the trees and flowers had reclaimed what would’ve once been their domain. Incredible.
An impressive entablature not only held the columns and pediments in place, but was decorated by a breathtaking frieze. The story of the goddess giving birth to the first fairies played out in frozen marble images, each one executed with mastery by a true artist.
Turning on the spot, Amir scanned the palace. As he did, small pebbles cracked beneath his feet, breaking the dense, eerie silence that had descended on us the moment we stopped speaking. The quietude seemed alive, somehow.
“Wow, inde
ed,” he said. “This palace is much larger than the one at home.” He waved his arm, indicating the length of the building and its many doorways.
“It’s certainly spectacular.” I took in more details of the scene. Windowpanes beyond the pillars were caked with dust. One door had been irreparably scarred by a ghastly wound, perhaps the result of an axe. Had someone else made it this far? I realised there were several possible exits from the courtyard. “But, which way do we go? I count four towers.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek. “Good point. How are we to know which one she will be in?” He looked past me, his eyes glassy and wide. “I’d say that she’s in the north tower.”
“Why? How do you know?”
“Because of them.” He pointed with his chin, and I turned.
“By the goddess.” I gulped, hardly able to believe what was happening in front of us. Four waist-height statues lined up in front of the north alcove were changing colour, the stone flaking away like leaves in the wind, leaving behind repulsive, scaly skin afflicted by oozy sores. Stumpy fingers and toes started to wriggle as the trapped entities became aware of their wakeful state, the final shards of rock falling from their putrid bodies.
I’d never actually seen such creatures in real life. They were the stuff of nightmares and feverish dreams.
“Goblins,” Amir said dryly.
I nodded. “Goblins.”
Chapter Four
“NOW MIGHT BE the time for that sword to make an appearance.” As I whispered, I stepped backwards, slowly, quietly. If the stories I’d heard about goblins were true, they possessed an immunity to my magical attacks.
The goblin on the left opened its bulging orange eyes and blinked like someone who’d been staring at the sun and needed to adjust their vision. A globule of thick, yellow pus pushed its way out of the corner of the creature’s left eye. My stomach churned.
“Amir?”
“Yes,” he replied in a low voice, his backward steps mirroring mine. “Give me a moment.” He started to draw his sword from its scabbard, taking care to do so quietly. As the other three goblins shook their limbs and licked their thick, cracked lips, the one on the left let out a fearful cry. Somehow shrill and deep all at once, the discordant noise tore through my head as sure as any spike. I crouched and wrapped my arms around my head. Amir used the opportunity to release his sword in one confident motion.
“Talia. The pillars.” He pointed with his sword, and I nodded as I stood.
Orange. Black. White. Yellow. Each pair of eyes stared at us, each different in colour and shape, yet equally penetrative. Why were they just staring at us? Orange Eyes opened his mouth to reveal six stumpy flat teeth and two long stained fangs. He cocked his head and groaned. In unison, the four of them took a single step forward. I could feel their gaze in the bottom of my stomach, clawing at my insides like angry insects.
“What are they doing?” I whispered. “They’re not attacking.”
“I’ve no idea,” Amir replied. “But they’re definitely locked onto us. Let’s move.”
The moment I turned, the goblin quad leapt forward. I yelled out as they charged. Yellow Eyes pulled something long and tubular from his pocket. He pinched it between his swollen dirt-brown lips and blew. A projectile flew toward us. Amir flung his sword out and deflected the dart. It skittered across the pebbles covering the ground.
“Go!” He pushed me toward the thick columns a few metres to our left. My heart thundered as we sprinted. The clamour of the goblins’ armour as they moved grew louder, as did my own breathing.
I skirted around a column and crouched, but the prince wasn’t with me. The distinct scrape of metal against metal echoed all around. I tried to peek past the edge of the column, but another dart flew towards me. I didn’t move fast enough, and the sharp point clipped the top of my ear. I hissed and took cover again, protecting the hot wound with my hand. Sounds of battle continued to rage within the courtyard.
“Dammit!” I elbowed the stone behind me angrily. I needed to get out there. I needed to help. He couldn’t hold off four assailants at once, even with the advantage of size.
A growl, a thud, a yelp.
Amir! Pushing off my knees, I jumped to full height and ran into the courtyard. My feet nearly slid out from under me when I saw the dead body on the ground. The dead, human body.
“What are you doing?” Amir yelled over his shoulder as he continued to parry. To thrust. To dodge. “Get back!” Three goblins circled him, lunging and prodding, but somehow, in a flurry of steps and swings, he continued to protect himself. His face glistened with sweat. He bit into his bottom lip, grunting under his strain.
I threw my hands up. “Mentem revocare caeli!” A strong blast of air hit the trio. They flew backwards, one hitting a column with a frightful howl and then falling limp against the ground. He was breathing, but unconscious. The other two skidded along the loose ground like stones across a lake. As soon as they came to a halt, they shook their heads and worked to stand.
Amir used the distraction to rush back to me. Sucking in deep breaths of air, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Please. Hide,” he panted. “Suspect your magic can’t hurt them.”
“Not directly. But I can make it harder for them to move.” I needed to help, to do something. We had to keep going. I’d had my doubts before, but in that moment, as we faced something I truly thought might stop us from reaching our destination, I knew it was our destiny to find Aurora. No matter how it might change my fate, or Amir’s, we had to get to her. I’d make sure we found a way.
White Eyes made it to his feet first, his glassy stare fixed upon us as he sidestepped towards his companions. It seemed they preferred to attack as a group.
“Where did he come from?” I asked. Amir followed my gaze to the fair-haired young man lying on the ground in a naked heap. Whoever he’d been, he made a tragically beautiful corpse. “And where did Yellow Eyes go?”
“It’s him,” Amir replied. His chest heaved as he watched our attackers regrouping with the intensity of an eagle stalking its prey. “That’s the other goblin. I bested him, he hit the ground, then transformed.”
“I don’t under—”
He shouldered me and forced me back a step, running forwards to meet the recovered goblins. Tired as he might have been, the prince seemed to be holding them off effectively. I wanted to help him, but I could sense their immunity to my direct attacks. A web surrounded them, much like the one that divided this world from the Other. The best I could do was throw things at them. Slow them down.
Despite my guilt and frustration, I turned and knelt next to the handsome man—barely more than a boy—who’d been lost to this realm.
“Who are you?” I whispered. I pressed my ear to his chest and a hand to his stomach. The chill invading his skin frightened me, but I needed answers. Drawing in a breath, I closed my eyes. His spirit was about to cross the veil. I called out to him. He turned, and I gasped at the sight of his beautiful brown eyes. They were icy and sad, yet somehow full of empathy. If I’d had more time, I would have drawn him to me, into my arms. Though I knew nothing of his origins, not even his name, the scale of his loss was both obvious and immeasurable.
Somewhere in the distance, the clash of swords and the scuffling of boots registered. Amir still lived.
I repeated my question to the boy’s spirit, and his face softened. He pulled at his dark brown cloak, shifting it aside to expose the regalia stitched into his tunic. A blazing golden dragon, it stood on its hind legs, short, scaly arms reaching for the sky. The royal emblem of the family Rose. The family who’d ruled Oldpass for centuries.
“You’re a prince,” I whispered, my heart heavy. “You’re Aurora’s brother.”
The young man nodded, a thick strand of chestnut-coloured hair obscuring one of his eyes as he did. The goblins weren’t goblins at all. They were the four teenage sons of the queen and king. Two sets of twins. Everyone had assumed t
he boys were, like their older sister, asleep somewhere in the city, breathing, yet not aging. Resting, yet not at peace. Those poor boys had been afflicted by something much worse. Such a transformation spell, trapping both their memories and their bodies, would have left them aware of the passage of time. For a hundred years, the goblins would have remained frozen inside their stone prisons, bloodthirsty and frustrated, yet totally unaware of their own identities and completely incapable of movement. Until we passed some invisible threshold that woke them up, called them to arms to protect the curse that facilitated their torment. Aurora might have been the linchpin of Tanit’s machinations, but she was by no means its only victim, nor its most afflicted. This madness had to come to an end.
My chest ached as the prince, no more than seventeen years old, cried, silently pleading with me. Though he’d not discovered his voice—the transition to the Other World could be jarring to any freshly deceased person—his message was as clear as any I’d ever received.
Please. Save my family.
“I will,” I replied. “I promise!” His form started to glow and then distort, as though he were being swallowed up by a rippling body of water. It was the ethereal veil. He was moving beyond the space that hung between our worlds into a place I could not follow. With a final shimmering reflection, his form disappeared. I wiped the tears away from my face, straightened my spine, and willed my projected form to return to my body.
Only moments had passed, yet the prince’s body felt even colder beneath me. I sat upright and looked down at him. The gaping wound in his chest no longer bled. “We will release them,” I told him, my voice as determined as my thoughts. My ear throbbed where the dart had cut away my flesh, but I pushed the pain aside as I stood.
“Amir!” The ferocity in my voice shocked even me. The prince of Grimvein, my friend, had stood his ground bravely. A gash to his cheek trickled blood but was the only wound I could see.
Finding Aurora Page 3
