The Lost City

by Amanda Hocking

  “There will be a huge crowd of trolls we can follow in,” Dagny said, since her assurances that there’d be plenty of signs had done nothing to ease Hanna’s concerns.

  “Following the crowd doesn’t mean I’ll get to the right place,” Hanna retorted. “They might all be walking off a cliff, for all you know.”

  “What? Is that a thing that happens here?” Eliana had been busy lacing up the corset-style Victorian gloves that Dagny had lent her, but she stopped and her eyes widened—whether out of excitement or fear, I couldn’t be sure.

  “No, no, Hanna’s being dramatic,” I told her soothingly.

  “Besides, it’s near-impossible to miss,” Dagny reiterated as she finished reapplying her eyeliner. “You go in the front door, up the stairs, then go right and through the waiting room, and there you are.”

  “There’s no other turns at all?” Hanna asked.

  “Not unless you take a wrong turn at the bathroom and end up in the drawing room. But really, Hanna. You can’t get lost, and you’ll always be with us.” Dagny dropped the makeup into her cosmetic bag, then turned back to face Hanna straight on. “Why are you so worried about getting split off from us?”

  “I don’t know.” Hanna shrugged a shoulder indifferently. “Lots of strange stuff has been happening lately. I like to know all my options.”

  “Options?” I repeated, confused.

  “She means memorizing all the entrances and exits,” Eliana supplied when Hanna didn’t answer right away. “She’s been making me do it at my new place now too.”

  “I’m just being safe,” Hanna said defensively, as if she’d been accused of something untoward. “My dad always taught me to do it, so we’d be safe if there was danger.”

  “Right, I should’ve known,” I mumbled, which was true enough.

  Finn had been through a lot of rough situations, and he’d made it through by obsessing over details and being prepared. On countless occasions, I’d heard him stressing the importance of various safety and danger warnings, not just to the kids, but to me, to Mia, to literally everyone.

  “Well, you won’t have to worry tonight,” Dagny told her with a smile. “There will be guards everywhere, and the Ögonen on the roof.”

  That calmed Hanna enough. And then we were off, joining the long procession of elegantly dressed attendees on their way to the Mimirin. The streets were crowded, but most everyone was going the same way, so it didn’t take all that long to get down there.

  I spotted the guards as soon as we stepped into the Mimirin. Normally they were unobtrusive, standing at the sidelines in bland uniforms. Inconspicuous and vigilant. If I hadn’t spent so much time around trackers like Finn, I might not have been so quick to recognize the rigid posture.

  But tonight they were on full display for everyone. Crimson satin uniforms—the color of the Vittra, who funded most of the festival—sharply tailored with gaudy embellishments, so they looked like a Victorian cosplay of army men.

  The outfits might have been for show, but the swords glinting at their sides certainly weren’t. As we passed them, I let myself fall a bit farther behind Hanna and Eliana, letting them enjoy their last night together. We were safe here. I could give them space tonight to have fun without me watching over their shoulder.

  The Aurenian Ballroom in the Mimirin was located on the second floor, above the library. It was easy enough to find, even without all the floral and shimmery signs pointing the way—up the main grand staircase, to the right, past the restrooms, and then you were in the elegant waiting room. It was a holding room of sorts, with two sets of floor-to-ceiling doors leading into the opulent ballroom.

  The room itself was almost vacantly white, but there were a few subtle touches of pink and red—ruby and rose sapphires adorned the platinum wall sconces, and the marble tiles on the floor had accents of dusky pink stones.

  I was a step behind Hanna and Eliana, so I had a front-row seat for witnessing their first look at the festival. Once we’d gotten through the security at the front doors, they’d sidled up together, talking in excited whispers about all the décor and elaborate fashion.

  Just outside the ballroom, when their excitement was reaching peak fervor, they clasped their hands together. As soon as they saw inside the ballroom, they gasped in unison, which only caused them to burst out laughing. Then they weaved through the crowd—carefully, since they were still holding hands—until they made their way out to the middle of the dance floor, where other kids and teenagers had already started the circular dancing around the maypole.

  By its very nature, the Midsommar festival called for an explosion of flowers. Extravagant bouquets sat on every table, overflowing with lilies, peonies, and roses as large as my fist. Two maypoles stood in the center of the dance floor, decorated with long pastel and floral ribbons.

  The Aurenian Ballroom—much like the entirety of Merellä today—smelled of flowers. Sweet and earthy, fresh and bright—like wildflowers and honey and the peach wine that I sipped from a champagne flute. A waiter passed by with the flutes of wine on a silver tray, and I snatched one as Dagny tutted me.

  “It’s delicious.” I held it up, swirling the pale pink liquid in the crystal glass. “You really should try one.”

  “It’s too early. I haven’t eaten yet,” Dagny said, just as the music swelled.

  In the north corner of the room a classical sextet had been set up, with a pair of female vocalists. They were maybe twins, but definitely sisters, with matching diminutive statures and button noses. Not to mention they had equally stunning voices, which they were ably showing off as they sang an old Trylle love song.

  “Are you enjoying the music?” Pan’s voice behind me, and I turned around to see him looking much sharper than when I’d seen him last, trading in his elk-herding uniform of green velvet slacks and floral suspenders for a slick black suit.

  I smiled at him. “I am. I’ve always liked this song.” It was a slow, mournful waltz, but there was something strangely optimistic in the high melody.

  “Then it would be a real travesty if you didn’t dance to it.” He held out his hand to me.

  “You don’t have to,” I demurred.

  “I know. I want to.”

  I placed my hand in his and let him lead me out to the dance floor. As we fell into step together, his other hand slid to the small of my back, and we began to sway and twirl around the room, mindful of the maypole and its zealous dancers.

  “This is a very nice song,” Pan commented. “I’m not sure if I’ve heard it before, though.”

  “They played it all the time at Trylle events I went to in Förening. I don’t know how popular it really is outside of that kingdom. It’s called ‘Den Sista Dansen Utan Dig.’”

  Pan’s forehead scrunched in concentration for a moment as he deciphered it. “‘The End of the Dance Without You’?”

  “‘The Last Dance Without You,’” I corrected him gently. “But that was pretty close.”

  “I’m not quite as fluent in other languages as you are,” he admitted. “But this sounds like kind of a depressing song.”

  “It’s about a woman whose lover died at sea. She dances on the hills in the morning, the way they did when he was home.”

  “I stand corrected—it’s a very depressing song,” Pan said.

  I laughed. “No, it’s not that sad. Like right here.” I paused, listening to the operatic lyrics before translating them. “‘And if the sun tomorrow doesn’t rise, I still smile that I saw the light. Though the night shall be long, I have our dance to keep me warm. And I know that one day, beyond the dark, I will have my last dance without you.’”

  “All right, I guess it has a slightly more optimistic ending,” Pan allowed.

  “Exactly.”

  “It probably helps, though, that I’m not dancing alone,” he said with a smile that made my heart skip a beat.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m always in a good mood when I have a beautiful girl on my
arm.”

  I laughed and lowered my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush rising on my cheeks. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Honestly, not often at all. I haven’t really been to a lot of dances, outside of a couple of weddings.”

  “Same. The royalty seem to throw balls and parties every other week, but I’ve only snagged an invite to a few myself.”

  The song came to an end, switching to the much jauntier music ideal for maypole dancing, so Pan and I made our way to the edge of the dance floor and separated.

  “At least tonight we can get plenty of practice with our dancing,” Pan said.

  I smiled up at him. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  51

  Punch-drunk

  Another four flutes of peach wine down, and I had to make a break for the bathroom. Dagny was loading up on the crudités while Hanna and Eliana danced, and Pan was chatting with one of his peurojen coworkers, so it was the perfect time to slip out.

  I don’t know if it was the dancing, the wine, or from Hanna twirling me around the maypole, but I felt dizzy and light-headed in a strangely wonderful way. Deep down, I suspected that that feeling had more to do with Pan than anything else. The way he smiled—so bashful and happy—when I teased him, or the warm palm print I still felt on the small of my back from dancing with him.

  In the mirror I could see it on my face—the flush in my cheeks, the delirious sparkle in my eyes, the sleepy smile on my lips.

  I was drunk—on the wine, on the night, on Pan.

  It didn’t really matter what the cause was, anyhow, but I didn’t want to act a fool, especially not when things were going so well. To be safe, I needed to sober up. I splashed cold water on my cheeks and decided to take a breather before heading back into the ballroom.

  Just outside of the bathroom was a spacious drawing room. It was quiet and sparsely decorated—a few tufted benches, several gilded mirrors, and half a dozen busts of old monarchs. As far as rooms went in the Mimirin, this one was nearly unremarkable, aside from one very cool architectural detail: a domed glass window in the center of the floor, giving a view into the library below. Currently, that meant it mostly had a view of the empty shelving and plastic sheeting, since the library was still under renovation.

  But directly below the skylight was a pattern inlaid in the library floor, bright copper mixed with red stone to create a map. It was the world, all the major troll communities marked with sparkling gemstones.

  The shelves were poised around the mosaic, and there were a few bolt holes drilled into the stone around it, so I wondered if there used to be something there. Maybe a statue or an elaborate light fixture.

  I leaned on the railing that surrounded the skylight, trying to deduce what might have been posted down there, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

  “Careful. You wouldn’t want to fall through.”

  And there he was again, Mr. Tall and Handsome himself—the swarthy stranger from the market. Although at this point I had to wonder if stranger was still the right word. We were something like acquaintances . . . weren’t we?

  By then I had been staring at him too long, so I fumbled out a clumsy, “Hey, you,” before things got too awkward.

  “And hello to you,” he replied. His hair hung mostly loose, with a few well-placed braids woven through it, slightly wild and very sexy—not unlike the smile he was giving me now.

  “I, um, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” I said, and instantly regretted it.

  Why would I say that? It came out as either condescending or threatening, neither of which was what I was hoping for with him.

  “And why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

  “Oh I . . .” I grimaced, then shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’ve had too many glasses of peach wine tonight.”

  “I was only teasing,” he said with a small laugh and stepped closer to me.

  Was he taller somehow? Or was it the all-black ensemble stretching out his lean frame?

  No, it wasn’t that, I realized, when I breathed in deeply. He smelled of fog and leaves and cold springs. And I realized this was just the closest I’d ever been to him.

  He was so close, I could touch him. I could reach out and hook my finger through his belt loop, running my—

  “No, I know what you meant,” he said, interrupting my runaway thoughts, and I jerked my gaze back up to him. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here either.” He paused, his dark eyes smoldering. “But I hoped.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, suddenly feeling breathless. “How come?”

  “Because my time in this city has come to an end.” His expression turned somber. “But I wanted to say goodbye to you before I left.”

  “Oh?” I struggled to keep my expression neutral, trying to hide my disappointment. “Why so soon? I mean, I didn’t realize it was soon.”

  “Neither did I. My work is finishing faster than I had thought it would. But you were definitely a bright spot in an otherwise . . . difficult trip.”

  I was about to protest, argue that I’d hardly spoken with him, but instead I admitted, “I could say the same thing about you.”

  “It’s a shame that we don’t have more time.”

  “You know, there are phones and P.O. boxes. There’re ways to communicate no matter how far apart you are,” I suggested.

  “Communication may be near-limitless, time is unfortunately finite. My life at home is too busy for me to be a worthwhile pen pal.”

  “Oh.” I forced a smile. “I understand.”

  No numbers, vague details—it painted a clear picture. He was either in a relationship or was royalty, some far-off Markis who couldn’t be caught slumming it with a TOMB like me. Either way, I didn’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret, so maybe it was for the best that my mysterious stranger was leaving.

  But somehow that knowledge didn’t erase the pang of sadness I felt about his sudden departure.

  “I’m glad we got to say goodbye,” I said simply, because what more was there that I could really say?

  “Me too.” He took my hand in his—his skin cool and soft against mine—and for some reason, goose bumps stood out on my arm. “And if we don’t meet again, I want you to know that I truly enjoyed knowing you while I did, Ulla.” He bent down and pressed his lips—soft, with a warmth that sent heat shooting through my entire body—against the back of my hand in a simple kiss.

  “You too,” I murmured, in a voice that sounded smaller and lighter than my own.

  With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me in a stunned daze. Once he was gone, I leaned back against the railing. It was only then, as my head slowly began to clear, that it hit me.

  He’d called me Ulla.

  He knew my name. But I’d never told him.

  And I still had no idea who he was.

  I chased after him, running out of the drawing room and back into the ballroom. By now it was crowded, packed even, and I stood on my tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the tall stranger.

  When I spotted him, my heart dropped to my stomach. It was worse than I’d thought. He was with Sumi, and they were making a beeline across the room, heading straight toward Hanna and Eliana.

  Sumi with her neck tattoo, and him dark and mysterious.

  The dragon and the shadow.

  52

  Dragons

  I shouted for them, for both Hanna and Eliana, but my voice didn’t carry over the music and the chatter of the crowd.

  I started pushing through the crowd, pushing too hard sometimes, based on how far some of the other guests went flying back, but I had to get through.

  I don’t know if they heard me or if Eliana somehow sensed the danger, but when she finally looked over, she spotted them instantly. She grabbed Hanna by the hand and bolted toward the door.

  Sumi and Mr. Tall raced after them, just as a ribbon snapped me across the waist. I’d been so focused on Hanna and Eliana that I hadn’t noticed how close I’d g
otten to the maypole, and the surprise of the ribbon slamming into my stomach caused me to double over. I fell forward onto the floor, tangling myself further into the ribbon.

  The commotion I caused pushing my way through the ballroom and then getting entangled in the ribbon drew the attention of Pan and Dagny, and they rushed over to me.

  “What’s going on?” Pan took my hand, pulling me to my feet, while Dagny helped unwind the satin from around me.

  “They’re here, they ran after Hanna and Eliana, we have to stop them,” I said in one long, panicked breath.

  “Who? Where?” Dagny asked, but I was finally free of the maypole, so instead of answering her, I raced forward.

  I didn’t make it very far—only to the ballroom doors—when the guards in their shiny red uniforms encircled me.

  “You have to help us!” I shrieked at them. “You have to go after them!”

  A broad-shouldered guard stepped toward me. His chest was especially festooned with pins and medals, including one that listed his name as Soldatsun. “Miss, you need to calm down so you can tell us what’s going on,” he said in a slow, condescending tone.

  “They’re getting away!” I shouted. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

  “Miss, you need to lower your voice,” he insisted firmly.

  “Perhaps it’s best if I explain.” Dagny slid over, putting herself between me and Soldatsun. “Her sister ran off, and she needs to get her.”

  Dagny was simplifying the story to speed things up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I rushed forward, slamming my shoulder hard into shocked guards and knocking them to the floor.

  And then I was running. I jumped over them and bounded down the stairs two or three at a time. Behind me, distantly, I heard Dagny and Pan arguing with the guards.

  Between the bottom of the stairs and the main doors was a line of guards, blocking my exit. They’d checked our bags on the way in, and they would’ve stopped two panicked girls.