Zenar led his brother out of the office and into the main corridor. Cold dread began to build in Liran’s chest when Zenar passed through the door leading to the temple’s lower chambers. With each step into the spiral, Liran’s gut clenched.
“Your Highness.” The ArchWizard waved nonchalantly at the prince in his cell.
Liran gave the boy a brief nod but couldn’t meet his gaze. A sudden fear had taken hold of him, the kind of fear one experiences only as a child. He was walking into a nightmare and knew there would be no waking up.
“Weren’t you ever curious, Liran?” Zenar spoke in a light tone. “About the true reason for the Embrace?”
“The reasons were clear enough,” Liran answered. It was a half-truth. As much as he despised the Embrace, it was an effective tool of conquest, but beneath that rationale he couldn’t help but be suspicious about the emperor’s insistence on it in territory after territory. Even kingdoms that surrendered immediately when facing Vokk’s armies, offering no resistance, did not escape the Embrace. He didn’t like Zenar’s suggestion that something else compelled their father to institute its practice. He didn’t like it at all.
Zenar laughed and turned to grin at Liran. “That’s always been your problem, you know. Lack of imagination.”
The steps twisted down and down. They passed other cells, some occupied, others empty. The deeper they descended, the worse the state of the prisoners was.
New sounds reached Liran’s ears. Shrill, desperate keening. Choked sobs. Groans of pain. A chorus of fear without hope.
The spiral staircase came to an end. Torchlight from sconces that ringed the room revealed a chamber that was empty save a door. Zenar withdrew a key from his long silk coat.
Liran’s throat closed. He didn’t want to see what was behind the door. It hid whatever made those hellish sounds. It muffled the odious smells within.
Don’t. Liran pleaded silently with his brother. Don’t.
Zenar turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open.
Liran doubled over when the smell hit him. It was familiar. He’d caught whiffs of it in the temple. But this, this was a sea of stale sweat, excrement, and vomit. He couldn’t stop the dry heaves that wrenched his gut and turned away, bracing himself against the stairs’ railing.
When he finally wrestled his stomach under control, Liran straightened to find Zenar watching him with an amused expression.
“You grow accustomed to it.”
Liran would never believe it was possible to be unaffected by the noisome air. He could barely keep himself from gagging at each breath.
Zenar gestured to the open door. “After you.”
Liran made it as far as the threshold. He thought he’d seen the worst of humanity in war, but this, this was a nightmare beyond imagining. Oily smoke choked the air and made the miasma of repulsive scents even worse.
The corridor in front of him was lined on both sides with iron cages. Skinny limbs and tiny hands stretched through the bars. Every cage was crowded with children, pressed together, crawling over one another to get away from the ankle-deep filth rising from the cage floors. The children’s clothes were little more than rags hanging off skeletal bodies, their skin covered with grime and open, festering sores. The corridor went on and on and on, until the cages stretched beyond sight.
The children in the nearest cages stared at him, eyes wide with fear. Liran realized that from the moment the door had opened, the wails and cries had stopped, the corridor growing quiet save a few whimpers and muffled sobs.
Fear outweighs their suffering. What is it they’ve seen that is so much more terrible than the pain and misery of this place?
“What. Is. This.” Liran forced the words through clenched teeth. He wanted to wrap his hands around Zenar’s throat and strangle him. He was beginning to believe it would ultimately come to that. Zenar would have to die. Anyone who could do this had to die.
Not yet. A small voice whispered in his mind. Not yet.
If Zenar noted Liran’s distress, he was unfazed by it.
He strolled to the nearest cage. The children shrank away, piling on top of one another, to avoid Zenar’s reach. But there was no escape. Zenar’s fingers closed on a tiny wrist and dragged a whimpering girl, who couldn’t be more than five, to the bars. He stretched his other hand through the bars to stroke the girl’s matted hair in a sick mockery of affection.
“This, my dear brother,” Zenar crooned, “is the key to eternal life.”
Acknowledgments
Every book has a family, and with each new tale I am grateful for all the work and support of mine at Philomel and Penguin Young Readers. I’m especially indebted to Kenneth Wright and Jill Santopolo for their faith and encouragement. Kelsey Murphy guided this book from its rough beginnings, and her insights kept me from getting lost. Thank you to Cheryl Eissing, Krista Ahlberg, Tessa Meischeid, Felicity Vallence, Eileen Kreit, and the marketing and publicity teams at PYR. My agent, Charlie Olsen, is tireless and always keeps me smiling. The Robertsons and Otrembas surround me with love that makes writing possible. This book is dedicated to Katie Saarinen Buhrandt, my best friend from age five, who knows what real magic is. To my husband, Eric—thank you for understanding when mid-conversation I drift into other worlds.
About the Author
Andrea Roberston is the internationally bestselling author of the Nightshade series and of Invisibility, which she co-wrote with David Levithan. She is also the author of the Inventor's Secret trilogy and Forged in Fire and Stars. Originally from Minnesota, she now lives in California.
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Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 33
