The Girl I Used To Be
The servant took her sweet time, her footsteps shuffling across the floor. She carried the wooden tray like a shield against her breasts. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of me.
“Stand up,” she said.
“I’m not worthy to stand in the presence of my father’s servant,” I said. A lump formed in my throat at those words, but I swallowed it down to the pit of my stomach. “Please, forgive me for all that I have done.”
I bowed my head and clung to the bars of the cell.
“I understand now what my betrayal has done to my father,” I said, my words carried by sheer determination. My people needed me right now, and I was going to get out of this dark place if it killed me. “My father was right to send me down here. I just needed time to see it clearly.”
The cloaked woman—Anastia—narrowed her eyes at me. “How am I to believe this sudden change of heart?”
I chose my next words carefully. She was testing me.
“You’ve left me down here for months with nothing but my own thoughts,” I said. “In the darkness of this cell, I’ve come to realize that my father is the only one who has ever deserved my loyalty. Instead, I turned my back on him to follow a demon who betrayed me and this kingdom by falling in love with another.”
I shook my head, true tears falling like rain across my cheeks. I hated the taste of the lies on my tongue.
“I have been blind and selfish,” I said. “I deserve much worse than the darkness of this dungeon. I see that now.”
Anastia set the tray on the floor. She knelt and lifted the cup toward me.
I looked at her, questioning. She nodded, and her yellowed teeth showed through a crack in her lips as she smiled. She actually believed me.
I took the cup in my trembling hands, surprised to find it full this time. Still, I couldn’t allow myself to drink. It took the greatest willpower of my life not to suck it down and soothe my cracked throat, but I wanted freedom more than water.
If I was going to do this, I was going to be good at it.
“I don’t deserve to even drink the water from his wells,” I said. “Not until I’ve had a chance to kneel before him.”
One eyebrow raised, Anastia glanced at the cup.
“Pour it onto the floor in sacrifice,” she said. “Prove your loyalty to your father’s name.”
Damn.
I held the cup out from my body and tipped it over, letting the sweet, cool water fall to the stone floor.
“I would pour a thousand goblets of water onto this floor before I would take a single drink without his blessing,” I said, hoping I wasn’t going too far with the dramatics. “I have wronged my father, and I will do whatever it takes to prove to him that I am truly the daughter he once lost.”
Anastia reached through the bars and took hold of my wrist. Her touch on my skin surprised me, and the cup fell to the floor with a clang that echoed through the dark dungeon.
“Princess Lazalea, you have no idea how long the king has been waiting to hear this,” she said. Her eyes actually glistened with tears. “It will take some time for your father and mother to forgive what you have done, but believe me when I say that they want nothing more than to have their daughter returned to them. Are you willing to kneel at his feet and confess to him your sins? Are you willing to turn your back on your old life and rejoin your family in this castle?”
I nearly cried from joy. Apparently I’d missed my calling as an actress.
I had a feeling I would have to draw on this new talent a lot over the coming months. Even if they set me free from this dungeon, I knew that becoming my father’s daughter again was not true freedom. It was just a different form of imprisonment.
Up there, I would have to face every memory that had burdened my heart for decades. I would have to pretend to embrace a life I had mourned over since the day Aerden disappeared.
It would be like shedding my own skin and stepping into the girl I used to be.
But I hated that girl. She was weak and vulnerable. She had no idea how cruel the world was outside the walls of this castle. She believed in love and fairy tales. She trusted in the future she’d been promised, not understanding that it could all be taken away in an instant.
That girl was unprotected and naive, and I hated her. I’d murdered her and buried her so deep I swore they would never find the body.
But in order to do what Ezrah was asking me to do, I’d have to resurrect her and make the people in this city believe she had never died in the first place. I would have to strip my heart bare of the armor I’d worked so hard to create.
I was a warrior. Give me a bow, and I would kill a room full of hunters before I let them bring me down. But up there, I would have no bow. No weapons. This was a game of the heart, and I’d never done anything in those kinds of games except lose.
I’d rather face the emerald priestess herself with one hand tied behind my back than have to face the girl I used to be, with her wide eyes and her unguarded heart.
“I’m ready,” I said, swallowing back fresh tears. This was war, and if I was going to be the leader my people needed me to be, I’d have to be willing to face anything.
Even if it killed me.
I Didn’t Have The Luxury Of Being Broken
The nurse and five guards escorted me to the baths. They marched me through the halls like a prisoner in the home where I’d lived for over a hundred years.
I kept my head down as I passed the curious demons of my father’s court, their whispers too soft to hear. I could only imagine what they thought. The traitor princess has returned in shame.
Did they even know what we had accomplished in the human world? Were they aware of how many demons we’d saved from the clutches of the Order of Shadows?
They probably had no idea. The king would never have allowed that kind of news to be spread throughout the city. We had done what the king himself was too cowardly to do. We made him look weak and powerless, and there was no way he would let that happen. Not here.
I watched their faces as I passed. They were prisoners here, just like me, whether they admitted it to themselves or not. In their eyes, they were the privileged few, chosen by the king to be saved from the Order. Didn’t they even care about their fellow demons still fighting for survival in the outerlands? Had any of them seen the destruction of the once-thriving villages near the Black Sea? The poverty and hopelessness of those in the mountains?
I may have been labeled a traitor, but at least I knew the truth. Even decades in the darkest of dungeons couldn’t make me forget.
Or forgive.
I eyed everyone we passed, wondering how many of these demons had helped convince my father that closing the city was the right decision. I had no doubt in my mind that someone had been manipulating him. The father I used to know wouldn’t have been such a coward.
Someone was advising him to follow a path of darkness rather than glory and battle.
But who? That’s what I wanted to find out.
My father’s closest advisor was Jackson and Aerden’s father, Naman, and I didn’t want to believe he could be capable of such cruelty against his people.
Still, he’d abandoned his own son to the Order. He couldn’t be trusted. None of them could.
But something told me there was another player in my father’s decisions. Someone who had turned his mind to fear rather than strength. Whoever that person was, they were the real traitor. I intended to find them, and I intended to kill them.
When we reached the bathing pools, the nurse stripped the tattered clothing from my body, leaving me naked in front of the guards. She wanted to shame me, but shame and I had already become close friends over the past few months. I refused to let her break me. Ezrah was right. I didn’t have the luxury of being broken. Too many depended on me, and I wouldn’t let them down.
Three of the guards looked away, showing at least some hint of honor. But
two stared brazenly at my nakedness, their eyes hungry and filled with lust. I didn’t try to cover myself. Instead, I memorized their faces. I kept my chin up as I walked into the warm pool.
I bent my knees, letting the water rush over my body.
I needed to be strong. To do whatever it took to spy on my own father and figure out what was really going on in this castle. But as I disappeared into the water, I gave myself this one moment to be weak and scared.
The dungeons had been hard on me, but at least there I could use my anger as a shield. I could be myself and speak my mind, even if I was only speaking to the shadows.
Up here in the castle, I would need to lock my true thoughts away. I’d have to hide my anger and my bitterness. I would have to hold my tongue.
If life in the dungeons had been difficult, life in the castle was going to be pure hell.
I stayed under the water, letting the tears flow where they would disappear and never be seen. How was I going to survive this all over again? How was I going to do this on my own?
I acknowledged my fear, and then I locked it away. I pushed up from the water, breaking free from the surface to reclaim my strength. I’d been through worse than this. I was a warrior.
I would smile and lie and cry tears made of diamonds if they wanted me to, but I would also be making plans. As I washed the stink and filth from my body and combed through the matted mess of my hair, I made a promise to myself.
Someday I would rule this kingdom.
No, it wouldn’t be the life I had dreamed of. There would be no Jackson. No tiny shadowlings running through the halls, their laughter filling my tender heart.
But it would be the life I needed. The life my people needed me to live.
I’d resisted it for so long, thinking that my father would come around. That he would join the fight once he saw how bad things had gotten. But his time was up. I didn’t care if it took me decades. Someday I would bring him down and take my place on the throne.
I emerged from the bath a determined woman with a mission etched into my hardened heart.
“That’s better,” Anastia said, draping a robe over my shoulders. “If only it were that easy to wash the stink of betrayal from your soul.”
I swallowed my anger. I practiced holding my tongue.
It was going to take a hell of a lot of practice.
“I will do whatever it takes to prove myself again,” I said softly.
“It may take more than you’re capable of, my dear, but we shall see,” she said. “Let me escort you to the tailor. She’s waiting to fit you for a new wardrobe of dresses and finery. No more of this disgusting leather you wore in the human world. If you’re going to be a princess again, you’ll need to look like one.”
I followed her to a room deep in the castle. I didn’t say a word as the tailor measured me, poking and prodding at my skin, lifting my arms into the air and studying my naked body as if I were nothing more than a doll. Let them dress me up and parade me around like a dutiful princess. The more I looked the part, the less they would see me for what I really was. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A snake in the grass. I would learn their secrets and make them trust me again.
And when they least expected it, I would destroy them all.
The Same Story
I sat in a corner booth of the small diner and pulled out my pencil and drawing pad. I was early and wasn’t expecting the woman for another thirty minutes. It had taken me longer than I hoped to find her, and I prayed it would be worth it.
With Eloise’s help, I had gone through the rosters of every emerald gate town, searching for any witch with the last name Rodriguez. As expected, there was no record of a Juliana Rodriguez, but there were ten others with the same last name spread across three different towns.
Over the past week I had visited each of these towns, tracking down each woman and comparing her to the picture I’d found in the hunter’s lair. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since that photograph had been taken, but so far, none of the women I had found had even remotely resembled her.
This time, though, I’d recognized her the moment she stepped out of the school where she worked in the small town of Alpine, Utah. She’d been talking to a student and when her face broke out into a smile, I knew I’d found the hunter’s mother. The picture was an exact match.
There was no record of a Kristie Rodriguez or anyone else with the name Kristie in the Order’s roster of witches in this town. I hoped the mother would be able to tell me who she was. Maybe she had been the girl’s best friend or an aunt or something.
I’d wanted to approach the hunter’s mother immediately, but talking to her on school grounds would have been too dangerous. Most covens of the Order of Shadows ran their training programs through the cheerleading teams of the local high schools, which meant the schools were always crawling with members of the Order.
Instead, I’d left a copy of the photograph tucked inside a few letters in her mailbox. I watched from the shadows across the street as she walked out to check her mail, her face going almost white when she spotted the picture. She glanced around nervously, clutching the picture to her chest as she ran inside.
On the back, I had written the name of this diner and a time.
If I was lucky, she would come alone.
“What can I get for you?” A waitress stopped by my table and pulled a menu from her pocket. She set it down in front of me. “Would you care to hear our specials? We’ve got some fresh meat loaf cooking now if you want to wait for it.”
I shook my head. “I’ll just take a cup of coffee,” I said. My stomach was too knotted up to even think about eating anything.
From my research, I had learned that Alpine was actually one of the older emerald gates in existence, dating all the way back to the mid-1800s. Typically, that meant the Prima demon was one of the most powerful. If the Rodriguez woman had gone to her Prima and told her about the photo, there would be a shit-storm headed my way.
To calm my nerves, I opened my drawing pad to a fresh page and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, opening myself to any visions that might be lurking on the edge of my consciousness.
I tried to make time every day for meditation and drawing, praying that something would come to me that would lead me to Harper. So far, I’d spent a lot of time drawing scarab beetles and stone guardians. Terrifying, but not particularly helpful.
The waitress set a cup of steaming coffee down in front of me and glanced over my shoulder. “Are you an artist?” she asked.
“Something like that,” I said. I took a long sip of black coffee, welcoming the warmth as it traveled down my throat.
“I used to have a ton of those notepads or whatever you call them,” she said. “Back when I was in high school, I was hardly ever without one in my bag.”
“Did you grow up around here?” I asked.
“Born and raised,” she said. She smiled and leaned against the table with her hip. She was an attractive woman who looked to be about thirty, and her eyes were kind.
“I don’t suppose you were on the cheerleading team, were you?”
She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Who? Me?” she asked. “Nah. Never did understand why girls want to prance around in tiny little skirts in the freezing cold.”
I smiled and raised my cup. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her trying to stab me in the heart with a silver dagger. “Well, thanks for the coffee,” I said.
“Sure,” she said. “Let me know if I can get anything else for you.”
I nodded and glanced at a car pulling into the parking lot. When Maria Rodriguez emerged, my heartbeat kicked up a notch. She glanced around, pulling her sweater tighter across her body. She looked nervous and scared, which immediately put me at ease. If she had called her Prima, she wouldn’t be so twitchy.
A bell sounded over the door when she walked in. I was the only customer in the whole place on a Monday at ten in the morning, so it didn’t take her long to figure out that
I was the one who’d sent the photo.
She cleared her throat and nodded at the empty seat across from me.
“Have a seat,” I said. “You’re Maria?”
She nodded again, her leg jumping under the table. “What’s this about?” she asked, pulling the photograph from her pocket and sliding it toward me. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it,” I said. I didn’t want to give away too much information until I’d found out how much she remembered. “Do you recognize this photograph?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and set her elbows on the table, letting her head fall into her hands. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “When I saw that picture, it was like something in my heart recognized it, but I swear I’ve never seen that photograph in my life. How is that possible?”
I glanced around to make sure no one was paying any attention to us. “What if I told you the young girl in that photograph was your daughter?”
Maria looked up. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept at all last night.
“I’d say you were crazy,” she said. “I don’t have any children. We wanted to, but…”
Her voice trailed off, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it and took a quick breath in and out.
“Listen, I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t appreciate strangers leaving things in my mailbox and demanding that I meet them on the edge of town,” she said. “I had to call in sick today just to be here.”
“Then some part of you must know how important this photograph is,” I said. I slid it back toward her. “Maria, I’m telling you the truth. I’m not sure how long ago this picture was taken. Maybe twenty-five years ago. Maybe more. But the little girl in this picture is your daughter. Her name was Juliana.”
Maria’s mouth dropped open and she quickly lifted a hand to cover it. She shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. “That was my mother’s name,” she whispered. She picked up the photograph and stared at it again. “I always said that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her after my mother.”
Forgotten Darkness Page 7
