Chapter Three

Tanitha flung the door to the manor's cellars open, heart beating hard in her throat. She'd only been down here once before, back when she'd been trying to familiarize herself with the place she'd thought of as her prison. Not long after, she'd seen the estate much more as a refuge. The truth was that it had always been something of both.

But neither of those would be true for much longer. Because if she didn't make her escape now, this place ultimately would be a tomb.

Magelights above her came to life, illuminating the white stone walls as she quickly descended the stairs. The stone was cold beneath her feet; whatever magic kept the elements at bay in the rest of the manor house apparently didn't extend here, which she supposed was sensible for food preservation.

The manor was largely self-sustaining; it generated more than enough food to support a single demon spending his nights there. Far more, in fact. Once, she'd asked Darius what happened to the excess, and he'd told her it was sent to the Sanctuary to support it and the foundlings it sheltered. She'd been immensely curious on that point, remembering another time he'd mentioned other supplies being sent here by ‘cart and construct', and that was what had led her to explore the cellars. She'd found about what could be expected, of course; jars and amphorae of honey, dried fruit, and other goods. But there was an oddity she'd noted in the layout; an open, unused area, free of any shelves or urns.

She hadn't mentioned her investigations to Darius, nor asked him if her suspicion about the oddness of the layout was correct. It wasn't that she'd thought that he would have objected to her explorations or refused to answer. It was just… she'd been happy with him. And though she wasn't so foolish that she'd thought it would never end, she hadn't wanted to make him think that she still felt trapped, or that she'd wanted to leave him.

And then she'd driven him to leave her. The thought was so painful that she stopped her descent, leaning against the wall. Fighting tightness in her chest, she forced herself to take deep breaths. Why hadn't she been able to let go of her fear? Why, when it came to it, hadn't she been able to trust that he wouldn't ever see harm come to her? If she had needed more proof, she had it now. She'd soul-bound him against his will, and even in that terrible moment when she'd hurt him in a way she had never even contemplated… even in that moment, his first thought had been to tell her that he still intended to keep her safe. He'd meant to send her away, yes, but not for one moment had he intended for any danger to threaten her.

But danger had come regardless. Tanitha opened her eyes, though she stayed where she was, the cold of the cellar wall seeping through her dress's filmy sleeve. Mere minutes before, a demon woman had arrived on the manor's doorstep. Alethia of Zharen, she'd said her name was, and she'd declared herself Prince Darius' betrothed. Tanitha didn't know if that was true. She didn't want to believe it could be. But Alethia had brought other news as well, other tidings that Tanitha wanted to believe even less. Tidings that Queen Naratha had imprisoned her own son, fearful of what orders Tanitha might have given him. And of course, tidings of the danger that was coming toward Tanitha even now. Demons with every intention of killing the woman that had bound their prince.

And so, in the moments after Alethia had left, Tanitha had come to a conclusion. She couldn't let the demons capture her; she'd be killed in seconds. And if her own life wasn't enough, she had the life of her child to fight for, too. She rested one hand lightly on her stomach. She'd been afraid that this pregnancy was dangerous to her, and though still not totally certain on that point, Darius' true form was quite close to a human's. That knowledge, unfairly gained as it had been, had largely set her fears to rest. And yet in the same moment, new fears had been born. Fears that she wouldn't be able to protect the child, to give it the life and happiness she desperately wanted for it.

To that end, the most sensible path was to run. To escape, to try to start a new life somewhere demonkind couldn't find her.

But she couldn't do that. Her heart ached. As long as she was alive, her whereabouts unknown, Darius would remain imprisoned. Her freedom could only come at the cost of his, and possibly even at the cost of his life, if the demons truly feared what she might have ordered him to do. Darius had saved her life, and he'd treated her with a tenderness and love that she'd never even dreamed of. Whatever he felt toward her now, she couldn't repay him by leaving him alone to bear the consequences of what she'd done to him.

She stepped off the stairs, ignoring the chill of the cellar floor beneath her bare feet. Ignoring the stored foodstuffs, she walked past rows of shelves quickly, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the underground chamber.

She came around a corner to the strange open area. It was about five paces across, bordered on either side by high shelves but hemmed in on the back only by bare wall. Adding to the strangeness of the layout, though, was the fact that this wall was different. It was made of brick, not the same smooth stone as the rest. She stood in the center of the open space, then spread her arms outward, gauging the distance. Yes, her memories were correct. This space was just about the right size to allow for the loading of a horse-drawn cart. And…

She knelt, her eyes intently focused. There were marks on the floor she hadn't noticed the first time, and though they were faint, they did indeed look like the faint imprints of wheel tracks.

She followed the tracks with her eyes as she stood, then walked to where they abruptly disappeared where the floor joined the wall. Which meant, of course, that this wasn't a wall. It was a door.

Relief swept through her. She'd known there had to be another way to exit this place; the path to the front of the manor was ancient and neglected, nearly impassible on foot and certainly useless for transporting anything by cart. A path for supplies was a path toward escape.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing one hand against the wall that wasn't a wall as she quested out with her senses. There was a construct here, and after her months spent studying elemental scrolls, she was able to get a feel for its purpose quickly. She nodded; it was meant to open this door, to pull stone and earth aside. Some constructs were more or less automatic and would be triggered by some outside factor, like the one that cut the meadow's grass when it reached a certain point. But this one seemingly needed to be activated deliberately.

She prodded at the construct mentally, exploring its design, its coils of energy and magic like lines of light in her mind's eye. Somewhere… yes. There.

She pushed at an intersection of the enchantments, and a rumbling noise filled the air. Hastily, she stepped back. A crack, rapidly widening, appeared in the wall near its center, and she took another several steps back as the wall's two halves swung outward like double doors. Cold air slowly seeped from the opening of the newly revealed tunnel beyond.

Tanitha walked forward, summoning light around her fingertips, since no new magelights had appeared in the tunnel; she supposed there was no need for them in a place that was manned entirely by artificial magical servants. The little rays of light slowly weaving through and around her fingers illuminated the cold, dark tunnel… and then fell upon a cart.

Her heart leapt, and she rushed forward to inspect it. The cart was a strange design, lacking any apparent place to secure a horse or mule's straps, and there was nowhere for a driver to perch, but the cart's body was certainly deep set enough for her to sit in. And better yet, she could sense another construct anchored to the wood of the cart, this one meant to roll the wheels along.

She stood very still for a moment, then turned on heel and darted back to the cellar stairs. She didn't know how far the tunnel went before she'd be exposed to the elements, or where exactly she'd emerge. But whatever the case, she'd need supplies. She needed to move quickly if she didn't want a cadre of demons hot on her trail.

She felt her posture harden with determination. She wasn't the frightened little Sanctuary waif that she'd been even a few months ago. She was stronger than she ever had been, and no one— not Alethia, not Queen Naratha herself— was going to stop her. Her plan was dangerous, yes, but there was one way she could save Darius. One way she could secure his freedom, his life, and the life of their child. But going through with it meant that the only way she could survive was if he saved her once more in turn.

Her steps slowed for just a moment at that thought, but then she shook her head, angry at herself. She'd failed to trust in him once before, and look where it had led. No, she wouldn't let fear drive her this time. And even if he ultimately couldn't save her… at least she'd know she'd protected the people she loved. That Darius and the child were safe.

The last of the supplies gathered, Tanitha dumped one final load of furs and blankets into the cart's bed. She stood poised, one hand on the cart as she thought quickly. Water, preserved food, clothing, and the furs and blankets that would have to serve as warmth while the cart wound its way down the mountainside.

There was another use for the furs and blankets, of course. The demons were going to be focused on the Hold itself, but if they arrived soon, they might be watching for escape attempts, and while she hoped they didn't know about this exit, she still didn't intend to be plainly visible when the cart emerged from the tunnel.

Her blood practically singing with anxiety, she climbed into the cart, arranging things quickly. She had a pack with the absolute essentials in case she needed to abandon the cart, or in case she needed to walk the final distance to Karazhen— she wasn't entirely certain where the driving construct would set the cart to rest, so that was a definite possibility. Even if it was meant to go the full distance to the Sanctuary, she couldn't go with it that far.

She closed her eyes, feeling for the enchantments anchored to the wood. There were several, though none looked problematic to her. She found the one meant to activate the cart's motion, and she mentally pressed at it.

The cart lurched into motion, eerily quiet, and she gripped the sides of the cart's bed. Several other constructs flared to life in response to the activation of the first. To her surprise, there was one of air, meant to keep the sound of the wheels contained, and then there was another, this one of soul. She gripped the sides of the cart, eyes closed as it began to glide down the cold, dark tunnel. It seemed like it was… yes, the soul enchantment was meant to repel attention, meant to make any observer think the cart uninteresting and barely worth noticing.

Her shoulders slumped with relief, and she opened her eyes. It made sense; an unguarded cart like this would be an easy target for bandits if they became aware that it made regular journeys from a demon's Hold to the Sanctuary.

Her heart sank at the thought. The Sanctuary… With all the rising dangers, she hadn't truly considered how the thought of that place made her feel. Her home, her refuge for so many years. Of all the places she couldn't go, that was near the top of the list. No matter how much she might want to.

And then there was Lithra. The pain in her heart surged so fiercely that she bent forward, her hand to her sternum as she fought to contain the upwelling of grief. Gods, Lithra… Tanitha wished more than anything that she could go to her, that she could tell her what had happened, that she could speak with her before she went through with her plan. But she couldn't. She couldn't risk drawing demonic attention to Lithra, couldn't risk endangering her like that.

There was more than a small chance that with this plan, Lithra would never know what had happened to Tanitha. The sharp cruelty of the thought brought a rise of nausea. Lithra would think the worst, that the pregnancy had killed Tanitha, or perhaps that Tanitha had angered the demon who had sheltered her by insisting on knowing his true form. Somehow, the thought of Lithra imagining that Darius had harmed Tanitha hurt even worse than the one that had preceded it. Lithra didn't know which demon Tanitha had been with, but the thought of her thinking ill of him, believing that Tanitha had been fooled and then hurt by someone she'd thought had loved and cared for her… it was a terrible story, and so far from the truth that it made Tanitha feel sick to the pit of her stomach.

She rubbed the side of her head, the smooth silence of the cart's movement through the tunnel a sharp contrast against the jostling chaos of her own thoughts. Perhaps she could arrange for a message to be sent to Lithra. But she doubted it. She doubted very much that when she was in Naratha's power the demon queen would be inclined to grant any request beyond the first thing Tanitha needed to ask of her.

The quiet dread of that thought lingered, and so for a time, she tried simply not to think at all, hoping that perhaps she could give herself some reprieve from the torment of her own mind. But there was nothing to distract herself with, nothing to count or categorize. Nothing but her own mistakes.

Some time later, the quality of the air in the damp tunnel shifted slightly, and Tanitha lifted her head, trying to place precisely what was different. The flow had changed, and… yes, the temperature was dropping slightly. It wasn't just the chill of dread in her blood, as she'd initially thought. On top of that… she banished the small coiling weave of light that she'd been sustaining against the surrounding darkness. Yes, the tunnel was growing ever so slightly brighter, too. The cart must be approaching the end of it.

She hurriedly began to unfold a length of canvas that she had taken from the storage room, tying it by its rivets to the front lip of the cart's bed, then tying one back corner in the same way. Then, she waited.

Eventually, the cart reached the end of the tunnel, and just as it was exiting into the open air, Tanitha flipped the last corner roughly into place over herself. Despite how thoroughly she'd insulated herself with furs and blankets, the intensity of the cold still shocked her when it struck. She forced herself to take deep, slow breaths, trying to stave off the shivers that darted through her for fear that the movement might be visible from above.

Lying still and quiet, she nonetheless kept her senses open. She could feel a wide variety of minds around herself, some familiar and some strange, but all of them simpler than a human or a demon. Rabbits, bears, some insects… all of them utterly disinterested in the bespelled cart. Despite her apparent safety, though, she continued to check her surroundings, waiting for the moment when surely she would be spotted.

After a time, she must have partly drifted off, lulled by the gentle motion of the cart and by her own strained exhaustion, because she woke with a jolt as something other crossed her senses. Holding herself tight and still beneath the furs and canvas, she didn't even breathe as she expanded the range of her senses. There it was again. Several bright pinpricks in the sea of darkness. Large and complex, and they were moving at a high speed as if flying, to the northwest of her current position. She swallowed, retracting her senses. Darius' Hold was located to the northwest, if she'd estimated her approximate position correctly when she'd emerged from the tunnel.

It seemed that Alethia had made good on her threat.

Tanitha held herself tightly, her eyes closed in the darkness beneath the canvas. She was safe, she reminded herself. Darius had never brought another demon to the Hold. The demons had no idea about the Hold's exit, no notion that she might have a path away from it that wasn't immediately obvious to them. She was certain that they'd circle the surrounding area, but they'd expect her to either be within the estate itself or fleeing it on foot. By the time they realized that she wasn't inside, she'd be well out of the range of their search.

And well on her way to an even more dangerous location.

Her eyes, still closed, tightened further against that thought. It was the only way, she reminded herself. The only way she could begin to make this situation right. And whatever the cost, she had to do that much.

After an interminable amount of time, she found herself growing less cold, and then, very gradually, almost uncomfortably warm beneath the furs. Slowly, still keeping beneath the canvas, she extricated herself from them. The air that occasionally blew in from the canvas's single loose corner felt temperate, almost warm. She cast briefly about with her senses, but beyond wildlife, she couldn't feel anything. Still, it was with trepidation that she pulled the canvas off and sat up, blinking in the late afternoon light.

She was in what looked like the upper foothills of the Ankara Mountains. The area was forested with cork trees and scrub, obscuring much of her view, but as the cart came to a bend that hugged a ledge, she could make out the gleam of the sea and the spires of three separate cities far away in the distance. The largest of these, almost directly north of her, was Karazhen.

She took a slow breath, looking at it, at the red shine of the afternoon sun on its white walls. The thought of returning felt indescribably foolish, but that was her destination. And given that… she bit her lip, looking around while she got her bearings. She didn't know which way this cart was going to go, but she couldn't risk interacting with anyone else until she was ready to do so. Which meant that she couldn't keep to a road that might intersect with one that had more travelers.

She grabbed the pack, slinging it over one shoulder, waiting until the cart descended to a more level area, then clambered over its edge. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, and without even another glance at the still-trundling cart, she bolted beneath the cover of the nearby trees.

The undergrowth and rocks tore at her feet, and she cursed herself repeatedly for never asking Darius to provide something as simple as shoes. Fires below, what was wrong with her? Why had she been so willing to surrender the matter of looking after herself to someone else's hands? Someone whose face and name she hadn't even known? Why couldn't she have prepared herself for this sort of eventuality?

The thought angered her, and she shoved a branch aside violently, only to jump aside with a yelp as it sprang back to strike her upper arm. Eventuality. She rubbed the stinging pain from her arm as she pressed forward, the word ringing in her ears. As if it in any way summed up her circumstances. As if she'd simply failed to account for a predictable, normal occurrence. As if she just hadn't planned properly.

As if she hadn't brought this situation fully upon herself.

She almost tried to banish that thought, then wondered what the point was. It was true, wasn't it? He'd protected her. He'd been unfailingly kind and gentle. He'd loved her. And she hadn't been able to just let herself trust him.

She angrily swiped a tear away. This wasn't the time. She needed to find somewhere to shelter for the night.

The area was full of pine and cork trees, and their silhouettes were growing dark and twisted as the light became dusky and weak. As the darkness was growing uncomfortably strong and her sense of the minds around her told her that nighttime creatures were beginning to rouse, finally she found a pine whose branches formed a rough sort of shelter, the fallen and dry needles around its base the closest thing she could expect to find for a bed. She ducked beneath one of the boughs, removed her pack, and sat. The ground was hard even through the layer of pine needles, and she leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. It snagged against the delicate fabric of her dress, which was badly tattered from how she'd battled her way through the undergrowth.

Another tear trailed down her face, and she tilted her head upward, trying to force any additional tears back. The sky above, barely visible through the branches that carved it into shards, was orange and red. She lowered her gaze, though the danger of tears was far from past.

Why hadn't she just been able to trust him?

It was a foolish question. She knew why. She'd told Darius that he couldn't speak to her of trust after keeping her in darkness, but that was only part of it. She hadn't been able to trust him because fear of doing exactly that had been her constant companion since she'd been a small child. She had never once allowed herself to think that it would end well if she ever fell in love.

An oracle's words had done that. Those words had been a casual destruction dealt by someone blessed by the gods. People said that prophecies were gifts of guidance, but just as often they seemed to herald only chaos and pain.

No, not herald, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest; that was wrong. Just as often, prophecies caused chaos and pain. If some cruel god hadn't decided that Tanitha should hear a twisted warning of her own fate, this might have been different. She might have been different. And she might not have been filled with such fear that she would hurt someone she loved more than her own life.

Tanitha had been raised in Karazhen's Sanctuary, utterly surrounded by the images and representatives of the gods. She'd been raised to be pious, to honor beings greater and stronger than herself and hearken to those who spoke for them. But what good came of honoring strength when it wasn't tempered by compassion? Why honor strength when it was used to inflict pain? Why listen and obey when doing so meant inflicting pain on others herself?

She shook her head, trying to force back the waves of agony that seemed determined to drown her. There would be time enough for dwelling on all this later. The evening air was beginning to cool, and the best thing she could do for herself was rest for a few hours before beginning the final stretch to the gates of Karazhen. If she could even gain entry. If the demons didn't catch her first.

She held herself close, wrapping the shawl tightly around her. The temperature had dropped quickly when the sun had set, and she wished she could start a fire, more for comfort and light than for warmth. But she didn't have the tools, and even if she had, she knew it would have been foolish. She had no idea how long it might take a swarm of demons to break through the enchantments of the Hold that had been her home these past months. She suspected it would take at least a day, but she could easily be wrong about that. Every rustle in the underbrush sent a jolt of fear through her core, and she frequently lunged to her feet at the simplest of sounds. After a time, though, she finally managed to settle. No horrifying creatures leapt from the darkness, no claws or teeth tore at her from behind.

Had she… had she actually managed to get away?

The thought was premature; she knew that. She still had to make it inside Karazhen if she wanted to carry out her plan.

But did she want to carry out her plan?

She rested her hand against her stomach, forcing her breathing to remain deep and even. Gods, what was she to do? Her plan could free Darius and preserve their child's life, but she was less certain about her own eventual fate.

She thought back to Alethia of Zharen, the barely concealed contempt and fury in her eyes when she'd spoken of how Tanitha had bound Darius. From Queen Naratha's perspective, Tanitha had done something unspeakable, unforgivable. Ashen Halls, from Tanitha's own perspective, what she'd done was impossible to forgive. Why then, was she taking a course where the only path to her own survival depended on Darius somehow finding it in himself to do just that?

A wave of pain washed over her at the recollection of the betrayal on his face, and she bowed her head, focusing on her breathing once more. When the intensity of the pain finally began to subside, she pressed her hand to her forehead. She didn't know what Darius would do if she put herself at Queen Naratha's questionable mercy, and she needed to face that. She believed he'd protect her. She believed that he'd shield her from the worst of what could happen if he possibly could. But she didn't know.

With that much said, why shouldn't she just run?

She closed her eyes. She could do it. She could flee elsewhere, somewhere Naratha's minions couldn't reach her. She could flee to a place hostile to demons and take some time to plan how to protect the child when the time came. Perhaps she could even return to Akkenthian lands, if the search for her had died down sufficiently. Or… surrender the child as a foundling. Demons took good care of their own. The child would be well cared for and safe.

She tried to fight down the surge of pain the thought brought to her. What if that was what was best for the child? Could she bring herself to do it?

Surrendering the child would break her. She knew that with absolute certainty, and that same certainty shocked her. With her determination to avoid romantic entanglements, she had never really considered the possibility of children. This instinct, this fierce and deep determination to protect and provide had taken her completely by surprise. Surrendering her child would destroy her. And yet, that didn't mean that she wouldn't do it, if doing so meant keeping the child from danger.

If she ran, was there any path where this child could be safe and still have its mother?

She laid her forehead against her knees. She didn't know. She didn't know if she could possibly find a place that was safe for her and the child both. But in many ways, the question was irrelevant. Because if she fled, she would be abandoning Darius.

She'd heard of some of the feats soul-speakers could accomplish. There were tales of them ensorcelling enemy commanders to catastrophic effect on the battlefield. From demonkind's perspective, a prince who was under an enemy soul-speaker's power was one of the deadliest threats imaginable. And she knew well enough how demons dealt with threats.

Tears leaked from her eyes. She'd come full circle, then. Her original plan was the only one that protected Darius from what she'd done to him and gave the child a chance at a life of safety. She would never be able to live with herself if she prioritized her own life over either of those considerations.

She pulled another shawl from her pack, folding it into a pillow with a precision that belied the chaos of her thoughts. Slowly, she laid down, ignoring the discomfort of the cold earth seeping through her clothes. Darius right now was an unknown, but he'd spared her life against his own interests once before, and whatever else she didn't know, she did know that he loved her. She had to believe that he'd protect her once more.