Thelia
I wish whoever’s talking would stop. I can’t understand what they’re saying, and the noise in my tender ears is ringing me up the parapets.
“Shut up.” My throat is coated in sand. “Please.” Incredibly, the voices do stop.
Everything aches—particularly my neck. When my eyes open it feels like dirt’s been rubbed under my eyelids. I’m tied to a chair.
The elf is still here. Still absolutely beautiful. With hair like sky and eyes to match, and shining bronze skin. It makes me feel sick. There’s a small bandage on one ear where I got through.
The elf’s at least seven feet tall—not a giant, but like a human laid on the floor and pulled hard by the arms and feet, and then dunked in molten bronze. No wrinkled, gray, sallow flesh. No teeth sharpened to points with stones.
The elf’s teeth are straight. Flat. Perfectly white and flawless. That’s so much worse. I could’ve had pure hatred for the demons in my nightmares, but these beautiful creatures . . .
“What do you want?” I strain forward against the straps, and they cut into me. “Why are you here?”
“She awakens.” The voice is deep, masculine, undulating. The accent makes me think of a biylar bear struggling to wrap its muzzle around language.
I twist around to find another elf, silver-and-turquoise chest plate strapped tight to his broad torso, chiseled pectorals carved into the steel. Long, straight, silver hair flows over its shoulders like a waterfall, down to its hips. Like the other elf’s, his skin reflects the light in a way skin shouldn’t—like metal.
We’re in the Temple. The walls are plain and a cot’s pressed against the wall. Must have been a priestess’s room before this catastrophe.
“Where’s Parsifal?” I manage through a scratchy throat. What did that elf do to me?
“I’m here, Theels.” My neck screams as I twist the other way to find Parsifal tied to another chair. He offers a rueful smile.
“We have captured your King,” the silver elf says. “The era of the Holy Kingdom has ended.”
Remember Mother’s training. Give no indication of how this makes me feel. Face blank, lips tweaked on each side in a ghost of a smile as if I already know this, while I wonder, Have they caught Corene too?
The silver elf leans down, picks up a strand of my hair, and sniffs it. I yank my head away but he holds fast. “How did my soldier happen to find you running free, after we checked every crevice of this castle? Where have you been hiding, Princess?”
Princess? I’ve worked for that title my whole life, and it’s a stupid long ear mistaking me for Corene.
It’s Parsifal who barks out a laugh. “Have you been eating the rare plants in here? Some of those can make you hallucinate.”
I hope my survival doesn’t hinge on a mistaken identity, because he’s just blown it.
The silver elf arches an eyebrow. “Sapphire, remind me, where did you find these two?” The blue one peels away from the doorway and brushes some dust from their flat, undecorated chest plate. Scars mar the metal, as if it’s taken many blows.
“Stairs,” Sapphire says. “North Hall. Where yo-o-ou found King.” The blue elf gestures to a pile of metal—my confiscated blades. “They wield weapons from King’s armory.”
“We took them.” I add with a glare, “To defend ourselves against certain invaders.”
“You robbed your own King?” The silver elf, clearly the one in charge, touches his chin. “Nobility would not do such a thing.”
“What’s he ever done for us?” I toss back. “We saw a chance to arm ourselves and we took it. You’re the ones who seized our castle—is defending ourselves a crime?”
“Hmm. If you are not the Princess, where is she?”
“Like I’d tell you if I knew.” I press my mouth in a stiff line and glare.
The silver elf waves a hand the way you’d clear away a bad smell, and says something to Sapphire in that rolling, musical tongue. Sapphire walks behind me and unties my ropes. Am I being set free, or have we sentenced ourselves to death? Our captor doesn’t speak as we’re led from the room.
But it doesn’t take me long to realize we’re headed to the dungeon. My knees almost buckle when the elf kicks open the heavy iron door.
Parsifal bumps my shoulder with his. “We’ll survive this,” he says.
We descend into darkness.
Parsifal
Another rock hits the bars, shaking our whole cell. More howls of laughter.
“Lee-tle royals!” the prisoner two cells down hollers at us. “Come to our party?”
“No beer, just piss!” calls his cellmate, peering through dirty strands of hair that have molded and tangled into birds’ nests. “I promise, you won’t get better down here than my piss.”
I knew we had prisoners under Four Halls. Petty thieves, deserters, rapists—they all end up in the same place. Transgress the King’s laws, drink your own piss in his dungeon.
I never imagined we’d be here with them. If I wasn’t filthy from the dust and cobwebs in Corene’s creepy passage, I am now. The previous prisoner remains here in the form of a full chamberpot and some rat-chewed rags. I’ll never get these shit stains out of my clothes.
We haven’t been fed since we were left here, either.
The prisoners all go quiet as the dungeon door creaks open. Then they go wild against the bars, like monkeys in the circus shows we had back in Frefois.
A tall being, taller than any human in the Holy Kingdom, makes its way down the row of cells toward us. Prisoners reach through the bars, grabbing at the elf’s arms and clothes. The elf easily dodges.
Sapphire. This isn’t just some lowly soldier, that much is obvious. The elf wears only a chest plate and a long cloak that never seems to get in the way of their delicate feet. As the creature leans down in front of our cell, the unnaturally smooth skin reflects the glow of the torches. Blue eyes with the faintest hints of gold and brown peer through the bars. To stand in wonder at the perfection and glamour of your conquerer is the most horrific punishment I could’ve imagined.
“Food,” the elf says, opening the panel in our cell door and sliding two plates through. Leftovers from the kitchen. Real food.
Thelia grabs my arm before I can reach for it. “That could be poisoned.”
I scoff at her and pick up a roll. “Why would it be poisoned?”
“It wants us to talk,” she says, pointing at Sapphire. “Kill one of us, motivate the other to give up information.”
The elf looks like she’s spit in its face. “They,” Sapphire growls. “Not it. It is for animals. Do you think I am a-a-a-a-a-nimal?” Sapphire’s mouth draws out the word, like a lyric in a song.
I don’t know what I think. Frefoisians don’t believe Melidia is the only divine being impressing their will upon us. An elf isn’t a mortal, but certainly not a god either. They could be demons, perhaps—but I’ve never seen evidence they exist outside the Temple’s stories.
“What else should we think?” Thelia asks. “You’ve put us behind bars. I’ve seen the blood on the walls.”
“I killed no one,” Sapphire snarls. Are they lying? Or do they simply need to justify it to themself? If they were human, I might be able to tell the difference. “Eat,” they command us.
I pop the roll into my mouth and Thelia grips my arm. “Percy! You can’t die on me.”
“We all die someday,” I say. The roll is chewy. “Bit stale.”
Thelia sneers. “Like you?”
Sapphire’s lips purse. “Commander only wants to know—where is the real Pri-i-incess?”
I spread my arms wide. “We don’t know anything.” I don’t know how long this game will work, but I’ll put in my best effort.
Thelia finally succumbs and eats a piece of dry ham. Sapphire says nothing. Their blue-brown eyes bore into mine, searching me for the truth. I wonder if it’s possible to force it out of someone with Magic.
I press my face between the bars, the rusty, dirt
y iron biting into me. “We know nothing,” I say, letting each word roll off. “So just let us out.”
“I cannot.”
One of the prisoners screeches, and it travels like a wave down the cells, one prisoner after another wailing for food or water. Sapphire’s hand clenches. Without saying anything else, they close the food panel, turn, and leave. The dungeon door falls closed again.
“Damn it!” I drop to the floor. “Maybe we should tell them where to find Corene. If that’s what we have to say to get out of here—”
“We couldn’t do that to her.” Thelia’s face turns bright red. “We promised we’d come back.” However much those girls tear at each other, a lifetime of loyalty is hard to break.
The tall prisoner in the cell next to ours hollers at us. “Why don’t you share that food?” His face is a skull with pale skin draped across it. He smiles at Thelia and drags himself across the floor by his hands, to the bars that separate us. “What a lovely girl.”
He seizes one of the bars and hauls his torso upright. He smells like a thing that’s already died and begun to rot. “I know you,” he says to Thelia, showing two rows of blackened teeth. “You’re the Princess’s cousin. I bet you have a sweet, tight hole.” His tongue darts out of his mouth.
Thelia smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I’ll find out soon enough,” he says with a gasping laugh. I look around for something I can hit him with. Over his head, one of the cell’s iron bars wobbles.
I look up just as it cracks and separates from the stone ceiling. It tips over, landing right on his skull.
Four of his teeth pop out, spinning across the ground. He doesn’t even scream—just slides down to the floor of his cell. Blood drips from his face.
“What was that?” Thelia whispers.
I look between her and the ceiling. “This keeps happening to me, Theels. First it was candlesticks. Now . . .” I stick my hand through the new gap in the bars and pick up the fallen length of iron. It wobbles in my hand, almost like it’s alive.
Bayled
Finally, silence. I pick my way through the wide black tree trunks, looking for a place to squat—and be alone. When I find a good spot, I dig down a little and unbutton my trousers.
There’s movement in the bushes. I jump, pulling my trousers back up, but it’s only a squork rooting through the pine needles.
“Hey, git!” I kick in its direction to scare it off—I don’t need an animal watching me do my business. “This is private.” The squork lets out a squeak and tears off through the trees.
That’s when three figures burst through the branches.
I’m too slow to pull out my sword. A big troll-like man—I recognize him as one of Nul se Lan’s bodyguards—hurls himself at me. His body slam knocks me flat, and we roll across the ground, twigs and branches tearing into my back. I try to shove him away with my legs, but he’s too heavy. He wraps both arms around me and rolls until I’m facedown and subdued, tree needles stabbing into my face and neck.
It must’ve been Nul se Lan’s bodyguards following us all this time.
The troll man grabs my hands and yanks them behind me. Both my shoulder joints yowl in pain.
I wish I’d listened to Thelia and Parsifal. But then again, would I have done anything different? Maybe. I probably wouldn’t have wandered off alone to take a shit.
I hear someone roar like a lion. There’s an immense crash, but I can’t see anything pinned to the ground. A woman hollers in fury and Harged’s voice yells, “That’s what you get for comin’ after our general!”
The scuffle continues over my head and I wriggle around, trying to squeeze out from under the troll man’s huge body. At least I can see a little now—just enough to make out one of Lan’s other bodyguards, the woman with the head full of red braids, getting pummeled by a rain of Harged’s fists. She absorbs most of them with the meat of her forearms, protecting her head.
The small, slender bodyguard, with three knives tucked into his belt and a hood over his head, approaches Harged from behind—ready to gut him through the back. “Harged!” I shout. “Behind you!”
He spins around as the little creeper lunges. Harged drops to his knees and rolls out of the way—he’s far more agile than I’d thought a man his size could be. No wonder he’s a kroga champion.
Having dodged the sneak thief’s dagger, Harged throws out one huge arm and catches his attacker right in the face. The much smaller man tumbles backward to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
Troll man must see that his comrades aren’t faring that well and climbs off me. I gasp for breath and struggle up to my knees—just as the bodyguard lunges at Harged.
The two giants slam into the ground, tussling in one big ball of hair and thick arms. I get to my feet and assess my surroundings, like I was taught. I didn’t do all that late-night fencing practice for nothing.
The woman with the braids is trying to get in the middle of the fight and pull Harged off her cohort. I’m about to take a step toward her, hand on the hilt of my sword, when I feel a cold, sharp point gently press into the flesh at the back of my neck.
“No. Move.”
It must be the dagger-happy little creep. I wince but don’t release the hilt of my sword. Why doesn’t he just sink it in? Instead, he puts his dagger away, yanks my hands behind my back, and starts tying them together.
The braided woman stomps over to us and says something to him I can’t understand. Something angry. If I had to guess, it would be, Just kill him already!
My captor yells something back at her. I hear Nul se Lan’s name. Perhaps, for a split second, there’s a chance for me to escape this. They must know Stone Company isn’t too far away, and the moment I’m gone, word will travel. Lan saw me leave Sasel back at the Crossroads—
My heart sinks. Surely, he’s killed her to prevent anyone at Four Halls from getting wind of my death.
The pressure of the rope around my wrist eases; my captor’s distracted by his argument with the braided woman. Troll man roars something at them—Harged has him pinned, ready to snap his neck. The man standing behind me throws me to the ground, again, and charges over to help.
I set to loosening the rope around my wrists. The knot’s badly tied. He should’ve killed me while he had the chance.
I finally get a grip on the handle of my sword as Harged is dog-piled by all three of Lan’s bodyguards. None of them notice as I walk up behind the big one, the rope still tied around one of my hands, and I drive the tip of my sword into the base of his skull.
He falls limp, right on top of Harged. It shouldn’t have hurt.
Harged lets out a groan as the other two bodyguards leap up, ready to tear me in half. I point my sword at the sneak-thief’s face, and his mouth forms a perfect circle.
“No move,” I say, mimicking him. His face twists in fury and he lunges at me. I copy Harged’s move and step sideways, out of the way—and whip my free hand through the air. The rope still attached to me swings around and slaps him right across the face.
His skin rips open, splattering blood. The little man screeches, reeling away to cover his wound. I twist and let my sword collide with his exposed rib cage.
The woman with the braids rounds on me, her mouth set in a glare as her last ally crumples to the forest floor.
“I’m going to kill you, Northern man.” She lunges, one hand reaching over her shoulder. I don’t see her hand axe until it’s cutting me open.
Pain tears through my side. I stumble forward, gasping, and try to keep my grip on my sword. Don’t get distracted by the pain. Keep an eye on your opponent. I set my feet apart and turn around, just as I see her swinging the bloody blade a second time.
Instead of cleaving my face in half, her axe collides with Harged’s steel bracer.
Howling with fury, the braided woman swings around in a circle and charges at him again. Harged does not move out of the way.
Instead, he drops down low, his head vanis
hing under her sparkling steel sword—a kroga move. His agility and strength reminds me of the way Thelia moves when she thinks no one’s watching.
The redhead overshoots, and he pops back up to her immediate left like a groundhog. Then he slams down on her wrists with both arms.
She howls and crashes to the ground, her axe flying. Her hands hang limply like a pair of dead animals. Harged kicks her flat and pins her in place with his foot.
Blood’s dripping from my side. But I can’t worry about that yet. I kneel down by the bodyguard. “Why did Nul se Lan send you to kill me?”
She wrinkles her face up and sticks out her tongue. I crouch down, grab her tongue in my fingers, and hold it there. She squeals and yanks her head away. “Tell me.” She flaps her broken wrists. I grab one and squeeze. That provokes a scream but no more words.
“Fine,” I say, standing up. “Harged, let’s bring her back with us. Maybe she’ll think of more to say later.”
He stoops to pick her up and we start the long walk back, me clutching my bleeding side.
“Glad you happened to find me,” I tell him as I limp along.
Harged laughs. “I followed you. I wasn’t going to let you go alone.” So he disobeyed my orders just in time to save my life. Harged Halen might be a bit of a dull knob, but he has good instincts.
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
He grunts and nods. “Couldn’t let General Vasha down.”
I smile at him and it makes my whole face hurt. “Before we go back,” I say, “I have to make a stop. I never finished what I came out here to do.”
Chapter 10
Thelia
When I was nine cycles in this life, Mother was teaching me a new kroga move: the reverse blind throw. But I couldn’t get it right. I’d aim over my shoulder and miss, aim and miss. She screamed in frustration and threw me, head over heels, to the ground.
Castle of Lies Page 12
