Hugo wrung his hands. “Miss Starbride, you can’t—”
“Leave her alone, Hugo,” Freddie said. “She doesn’t want our help.” He pulled Hugo away, Hugo stammering and objecting, but Freddie just frowned and stared at her as if he didn’t know her.
“That won’t be the end,” Yanchasa said. She lounged against the side of Einrich’s tent, arms clasped behind her.
“I know. But time is the enemy of pain.”
“I must learn all of these fabulous Horsestrong sayings.”
Redtrue could have taught her, if she hadn’t died, or Dawnmother.
Starbride looked to the snow again. The soldiers had propped up torches among the remains of their army. Someone had set a bonfire in the field near the gate. People trickled in and out of the city. Einrich would move soon, or maybe he’d decide it was safer out here, just until they’d cleared the last of Roland’s forces from Marienne. Everyone would wait until the morrow to reclaim their dead, after the snow had covered them in white and frozen them solid.
Chapter Seventeen
Katya
Katya thanked all ten spirits that she could walk nearly upright, though she wondered why the builders had never gotten around to digging out and reinforcing the rest of the tunnels.
“We’re still headed toward your capstone,” Redtrue said as they stooped.
“Good.” Maybe the tunnel builders had been hoping to climb the pyramid, seize the capstone, and harness its power. They could have been early Farradains trying to unearth what they needed to keep Yanchasa at bay. When this path proved too difficult, perhaps they’d dug the higher passages that Katya was used to. After all, there was no need to uncover the entire pyramid when they just needed the capstone. “We can climb out.”
When they stopped to rest, Redtrue fidgeted constantly as if the stone floor pained her. As soon as she moved, she grimaced and rubbed her ribs. Katya sighed in sympathy. She’d had a cracked rib before, knew how painful it could be. No matter what Redtrue did, she’d never be comfortable on stone.
After the fourth time she shifted and grimaced in the great pyramid’s direction, Katya took pity on her, hoping to distract her from the pain. “Do you have questions? About the parts of the story you haven’t been able to worm out of anyone else, that is.”
She sniffed. “I don’t want to know.”
“And yet you keep mentioning it,” Dawnmother said. “If you had a servant, she would say…”
Redtrue muttered something in Allusian.
Dawnmother smiled at Katya, who cocked an eyebrow. “My life for you and also the truth?”
“I would never keep a servant,” Redtrue said.
Dawnmother shrugged. “Then you would be poorer for it.”
They fell to soft bickering, and Katya watched Dawnmother work her magic. Lost in argument, Redtrue’s fidgeting stopped. But as Redtrue and Dawnmother lapsed into Allusian, Katya’s own fears came squirming back: Roland and Starbride, the safety of her friends, of her family.
Ma.
Katya closed her eyes and tried to drift, summoning other images, quieter thoughts, but she kept coming back to that hallway. The tilt of Ma’s chin as she stood beside Roland, resolute, unwavering, a queen that would rather die than give the monster beside her the satisfaction of her fear. Katya’s mind whipped through the death, a scene that would live in her nightmares. She didn’t settle again until she could see her mother’s body unmoving on the floor, Hugo’s coat over her face.
Spirits above, she’d have to get married without her mother by her side. How could Fah and Fay be so cruel?
Thoughts of the spirits led back to the carvings in the depths of the dead city. Fah and Fay hadn’t treated this place so kindly either. The luck spirits were notoriously fickle, cursing as often as they blessed.
Maybe the people of this land had forsaken the spirits and made their worship immoral or illegal. That would make the tunnel builders part of some ancient cult who knew what they were looking for, rather than exploring Farradains. If her people had made the tunnels, they wouldn’t have bothered to hide them or seal the way down.
Keener minds than hers would have to work on this puzzle. “Let’s get moving.”
Redtrue grimaced again. Katya couldn’t help a bit of prodding to quiet her own weary head. “Is all that grimacing for your ribs, or are you still afraid?”
“Who said I was afraid?”
“You did,” Dawnmother said, “by your every action.”
“You needn’t fear Yanchasa,” Katya said. “It’s asleep, and it’ll stay that way as long as my family stays in power.”
“You bargained with the creature,” Redtrue said.
Katya disregarded her arch tone. “Not exactly.” In fits and starts, she told Redtrue some of the story. Her ancestors had summoned Yanchasa, took in its essence to recapture it, and now the Umbriels bore the curse in order to keep it asleep.
“But not you,” Redtrue said. “I would have felt it.”
“No, not me.”
Dawnmother wisely kept silent.
“If your ancestors had not summoned the creature—”
“If they had never come to this land in the first place,” Katya said.
“I won’t do you the discourtesy of quoting Horsestrong’s saying about ‘ifs,’” Dawnmother said.
“Are you trying to suggest that I must hold your family blameless for the deeds of your long-dead ancestors?” Redtrue asked.
“I don’t see how blaming anyone helps anything.”
“As long as you have known of the existence of the greater Fiend, you have done nothing to rid yourself of it.”
“Like what?” Katya turned to glance at her in the cramped passage. “Let it out, give it a bag for its things, and point the way home?”
Redtrue gave her a withering look. “What can be summoned can be banished, or did your tutors neglect logic?”
“No one passed down instructions on how they summoned it.”
“Because they wanted to keep the creature,” Redtrue said.
“Or to keep anyone else from summoning another,” Dawnmother added.
They emerged into another large room. As she turned to the others, Katya worried that Redtrue’s frown would peel the lower part of her face away.
“How many could there be?” Redtrue asked. “These great Fiends?”
Katya shrugged. “How many glaciers are there in the high mountains?”
Redtrue didn’t seem as appalled as Katya thought she’d be. “Maybe they could be cleansed.”
“You said something like that before. How can you cleanse something into not existing?”
Redtrue shook her head. “Something about the energy, when I feel the capstone’s energy spike—”
Katya’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
“The energy feels—”
“No, you said the capstone energy spikes. Is it doing that now?”
Redtrue nodded slowly. “Several times since we fell down here.”
Katya scrubbed at her hair so hard it pulled. “And you didn’t say anything?”
“Is it not normal? You and your family are surrounded by circumstances I would consider very odd, yet they seem ordinary to you.”
Katya stared down the dark tunnel. If only she had Crowe or Starbride to tell her what it meant. “Roland must be trying to use it. Spirits help us if he succeeds.”
“He can tap into this power?” Redtrue asked.
Katya had to lift her arms and drop them. “I couldn’t tell you all the things he’s capable of.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Dawnmother asked. “Perhaps there’s another explanation.”
Katya barked a laugh. “I suppose it could be Yanchasa waking up.” Her insides went cold as soon as the words left her mouth. They stared at one another and then at the walls as if Yanchasa might come tearing through them any second.
“Just how big is this Fiend?” Redtrue whispered.
“Big,” Katya said.
“How big?”
Dawnmother hissed at her. “Do you think anyone has measured it?”
“Big enough to tear away a chunk of the palace if it decides to stand up,” Katya said.
“Perhaps then you can measure it,” Dawnmother said, “sew it some trousers.”
“I was only trying to—”
“Enough!” Katya barked, cringing at the noise.
Dawnmother cleared her throat. “We’ve been speaking in normal voices for hours. If the giant monster is waking up, our whispering is not going to keep it restrained.”
“You’re right,” Katya said. “There’s nothing we can do but keep going.”
They began walking again, but Katya knew they all stepped more carefully, and no one seemed as inclined to speak as they had before.
*
When they found more writing, Katya was loath to stop and study. Time slipped away, though it was impossible to tell how late it had gotten underground. Her body cried for rest, though she knew they should keep pushing forward. The way out couldn’t be far.
Being down amidst the stone and Yanchasa’s presence wore on Katya as much as her fear for Starbride and her grief over her mother’s death. The few supplies Dawnmother had stashed in her bag kept them going, but soon Redtrue plonked down in one of the rooms and refused to move again.
Katya bit her lip and looked to where the tunnel continued. They could leave Redtrue and send help later. If they could light one of the old torches, they wouldn’t need a pyramid to see.
“You’re exhausted,” Redtrue said. “I see it in your face and the way you stand. You need rest as much as I do.”
“For once, we are agreed.” Dawnmother sat against the opposite wall. “We must try to sleep.”
Katya shook her head and tried to tell herself that every muscle didn’t ache. “Starbride and the others will be worried.”
“And how much more will they worry if we blunder into something we’re not ready for? Or do you intend to try to break into this capstone cavern without my help?” Redtrue asked.
Katya sighed as she sat.
“We’ll have clearer heads after a few hours’ rest,” Dawnmother said.
Katya shrugged out of her coat and used it as a pillow. As soon as she laid down, the stone floor seemed like the most comfortable featherbed she’d ever slept in. Her eyes slipped shut before she’d even realized, and the events of the day played over her mind and locked in an indecipherable jumble.
Ma perched on the edge of a settee and raised a teacup to her lips with practiced elegance, her delicate features serene.
“You’re not dead!” Katya wept, so happy she’d been mistaken.
Ma smiled and patted her knee. “Tell me about your day.”
Six years old again, Katya crawled into her mother’s lap. “I’m fighting Roland, and then I’m going to marry Starbride.”
“How nice. Have you seen your brother today?”
A loud knock came from the door. Ma frowned at the noise. “Tell them to go away, Katyarianna.”
Katya hopped down and ran for the door, growing as she went until she could answer the knocks as an adult.
Her father stood there, beaming. “Do you have the crop report, Katya?”
“No, I—”
He pushed past her, Roland and Crowe following on his heels. “You were supposed to have it done,” Crowe barked.
“You’ll bring shame on our house,” Roland added. “Einrich, you told us she could do it.”
Crowe sneered. “Always neglecting your duty.”
Katya looked back and forth between them. “I don’t know anything about crop reports. It wasn’t mine to do.” But she knew it was. They’d assigned it to her months ago, and she’d forgotten. “I’m sorry!”
“Well, we’ll have to take something in its place.” Roland glanced around the room before his gaze settled on Katya’s mother. “That’ll do.”
He moved toward her. Katya tried to follow, but her feet were frozen. “Wait!”
Roland lifted Ma from the settee, and she just kept drinking tea. “One crop report for one mother, that’s fair,” he said.
“Da,” Katya shouted, “make him stop!”
Crowe waggled his finger in her face. “It was your duty.”
Da was staring at Roland, and Katya took one shaky step in his direction. “Da, don’t let him. Do something.”
“I’m sorry, Katya, it’s too late.”
Roland stepped around them, Ma still in his arms. “I’ll just throw this out back, shall I?”
“He’s your brother,” Katya screamed, her words barely discernable, even to her. “Why didn’t you stop him when you had the chance? Why didn’t you kill him? You let him murder my mother!”
Ma wilted in Roland’s arms, her life snuffed out by Katya’s words. The edges of the room turned dark.
“No,” Katya whispered, “no, no, no.”
Roland looked down at the burden in his arms. “You did this, niece.”
“No.”
“All your gifts,” Crowe said, “wasted.”
“Katya?” Da asked, and he held Ma’s lifeless body, too. “How could you let this happen?”
Katya tried to look away, but Ma was everywhere: sprawled on the settee, crumpled on the floor, slumped over in the chair, even hanging on the wall. Crowe, Da, and Roland were asking her what she’d done over and over. Reinholt and Maia stumbled over Ma’s body and shrieked in horror. Little Bastian and Vierdrin wept and tugged on Ma’s skirts, asking why she wouldn’t play with them.
Katya tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. She put her hands over her head and howled.
“Katya!”
Katya kicked up from the floor, pulse pounding in her ears. Her shoulder smacked into the wall, sending waves of pain down her spine. Her wound ached, and her shoulder and hip throbbed from where they’d been resting on the floor. She fought to control her breathing as spots danced before her eyes.
Redtrue knelt at her side, one arm outstretched. “What in Darkstrong’s name is the matter with you?”
“Tactless,” Dawnmother said, glaring at Redtrue as she stepped past. “Can’t you see she’s had a nightmare?” She touched Katya’s shoulder lightly. “Deep, even breaths, Princess. Focus on the now.”
Katya’s dream faded, all but the bodies and the weeping. “How long were we asleep?”
Dawnmother rubbed her arms. “Difficult to tell down here. Long enough to grow very sore. A few hours?”
Katya pushed off the wall and tried to ignore the shaking in her legs. “Let’s get moving.”
Dawnmother and Redtrue shared a glance, but Katya told herself she’d continue even if she had to feel her way in the dark and claw her way out of this place. She would not close her eyes again anytime soon.
Chapter Eighteen
Starbride
Starbride sat atop the wall overlooking Marienne, content to watch the city ebb and flow. With the gates thrown wide open, people trickled in and out. A few packed knots of men and women moved with armed purpose, led by a shouting commander. They ferreted out the last of Roland’s troops or patrolled the streets. Most wore the blue uniforms and chain shirts of the city Watch, but others wore the king’s colors.
In the field beyond the wall, darkness reigned. Out among the snowy tents, a few campfires burned low. Einrich himself had yet to reenter Marienne. He seemed content to let his soldiers or those belonging to his nobles make sure the way was safe. Most of the Allusians stayed with him, though Starbride had spotted a few darker faces amongst the crowd. Maybe the bulk of her people felt the Farradains would need time to get used to them.
The city was alive with torchlight, people moving through the night hours, most celebrating, others weeping. A few carts had gone past, bearing heaps of dead. Deeper in the city, she heard strains of music and a few drunken roars.
Yanchasa lounged on the other side of the walkway, his back against a support, one armored leg dangling over the side. “All this co
uld have been prevented.”
“Did you try to convince Roland that there was an easier course?”
“He barely heard my voice, daughter. I could only give him scraps.”
“He always claimed he wanted his people to be happy, that he had a better plan for ruling. Do you believe that?”
Yanchasa crossed to her side of the wall and leaned far over the edge. “I think he believed himself.” He gestured at the battered city. “If he could even understand me, he certainly didn’t listen.”
“But what about—”
“Who’s up there?” someone shouted from below.
Starbride glanced down. Captain Ursula stood below, lifting her torch high as she tried to peer through the gloom.
“The only soldiers assigned to the wall are over at the Dockland side,” Ursula called, “so either get going, or get your ass down here.”
Starbride held her utility hand close to her face, casting pale light over her features.
Ursula’s eyes widened. “Princess Consort?”
“Do I still have to get my ass down there?”
“What are you doing?”
Starbride pushed off the side and dropped. Ursula shouted a warning and darted forward, but Starbride used flesh magic to make the impact ripple through her body as she landed on her feet.
To her credit, Ursula’s mouth snapped shut quickly. “I’d heard you’d changed.”
“Like I’ve developed a sunnier outlook on life? Well, I suppose I have.”
Ursula’s eyes found the pyramid in her forehead and over her heart.
Starbride lifted her hands. “Here, too.”
“So I see.”
“Are you wary of me now, Captain?”
“I’m wary of everyone.”
“I should have expected that answer from you,” Starbride said. “But you know enough to be warier of some people more than others.”
Ursula’s eyes turned to flint. “Ballantine. Is he still here?”
“Don’t know and don’t care.”
This time, Ursula’s mouth stayed open a little longer. “You stepped between us earlier. You do care about him, or I’m the king of thieves.”
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