Chapter 32

In a dank antechamber, the guards peeled her clothes off, forcing her into what could best be described as a burlap tracksuit. It smelled of death, like it had once been stored in Pasqual’s basement. The guards blindfolded her, then led her over a cold, stone floor.

“Put her in with the other girl,” said a gruff voice.

The sounds of other prisoners rose around her—muffled, moaning, calling out. After a hundred yards, she heard a key scraping in a lock and the creaking of iron hinges. A guard pushed her forward, and the door slammed shut behind her.

In retrospect, we should have come up with a better plan.

Hands touched her shoulders as she clawed at the blindfold.

“Ursula, relax. I’ll get this off you.”

A moment later, Ursula was blinking at an emaciated woman in the dim light. Dressed in rags, with matted gray hair and yellow teeth, she looked like she could be the river hag’s sister. Light from an oil lamp wavered over her gaunt features.

“Do I know you?” asked Ursula, backing away.

“Oh sorry, I totally forgot about the glamour,” the old woman chirped. Her skin shimmered, then the illusion fell away to reveal a dirty—but much prettier—face. One that Ursula recognized immediately.

“Zee! What are you doing here?” She threw her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, you know. It just seemed like a fun place to hang out. I really like talking to the walls and drinking my own urine when they forget to give me water. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story.”

Zee cocked her head. “We’ve got nothing but time here, sister.”

“I came here to try to get Excalibur, but King Midac didn’t seem to like me. How exactly did you end up in here?” asked Ursula.

“Same way you did. I tried to steal Excalibur, but Lucius caught me. That freaking sword is hard to hold. It’s like…heavy.” Zee stepped closer, her cheeks gaunt. “You don’t have any snacks on you, do you?”

A banging interrupted them, followed by a shout. “Ursula!”

“That sounds like Bael,” said Zee, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“He came here with me.”

Ursula crossed to the door, peering out a window at eye level with a pair of iron bars through it. She could see into the grim corridor. Across from her stood a row of doors, each with a similar opening. Three down to the right, she could see Bael’s face looking through a window.

“Ursula,” he called out. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I could have done without the burlap clothing, but on the plus side, Zee’s in here with me.”

“Zee? Your fae friend?”

“Yeah, she’s stuck in here with me.”

Bael frowned slightly. “Well, she could be useful to us.”

“I’ll let her know.” Ursula pressed her hand against a bar, already missing him. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bael nodded. “Soon.”

Ursula turned back to Zee, who had a hint of a smile on her lips. “You both seem quite close. What’s going on there?”

Ursula crossed her arms. “Well, he is my fiancé.”

Zee’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you sleep with your own fiancé? I’m horrified.”

Ursula tried to smile innocently, but based on Zee’s expression, she had apparently failed.

“You had relations with a demon?” Zee whispered. “What was it like? I’ve heard Nyxobas endows his prized demons with more than physical strength?—”

“Zee!”

“But of course Bael doesn’t have his wings, so it might not be quite as?—”

“ZEE!”

“Okay,” said Zee, leaning back against the wall of the cell. “It’s just, you know, I’ve had no one to talk to in here except some woodlice, and they’re not wonderful conversationalists.”

Another round of banging interrupted them, and a pockmarked guard peered in at them through the window. “Lights out,” he growled.

“Yes, sir.” Zee reached for the oil lamp. With a sharp exhale, she extinguished it.

The door clicked as the guard slid a panel over the window, plunging the cell into darkness.

“The guards are awful,” said Zee.

“So what happens now?” asked Ursula.

“Well, they’ll have us keep the lights out until morning.” Zee enunciated morning the way she might if she’d been miming air quotes. For all Ursula knew, Zee was actually making air quotes, but it was impossible to tell in the dark. “But sometimes I think they have us keep the lights off for days on end.”

Something pressed against Ursula’s side, and she nearly jumped, until she realized it was Zee.

“Sorry,” said Zee. “It gets cold in here.”

Zee rested her head on Ursula’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Do you know how long I’ve been imprisoned?”

Ursula tried to tally all the time that had passed since they’d been separated at Vortigan’s warren under the Statue of Liberty. “I’m not sure. A week or two maybe?”

“Oh,” said Zee. From the tone of her voice, Ursula couldn’t tell if she was relieved or horrified.

“Well, it could be worse. At least you weren’t tortured in prison like Kester was.”

Zee stiffened. “You saw Kester?!”

“Abrax had him. He’s fine. Recuperating with Cera right now.”

Zee sighed audibly. “I was worried about him.”

“He can more than fend for himself.” Ursula was glad for the darkness, so Zee couldn’t read the expression on her face as she remembered Kester stabbing her mother.

Ursula woke in the dark.She could feel Zee’s small form next to her. Although it was pitch black, she could hear by Zee’s slow breathing that she was asleep.

The lack of sensory input should have bothered Ursula, but it didn’t. The darkness felt safe and clean, like she didn’t exist. Like nothing could hurt her—no memories of her mother’s shirt, stained with red, or Kester driving a sword through her ribs….

Ursula closed her eyes and opened them, blinking a few more times. The blackness remained the same. Just her and her thoughts. She closed her eyes again, and sucked in a slow breath.

Maybe she shouldn’t run from her memories anymore. She’d come here to learn who she really was, hadn’t she? She’d never be whole until she remembered everything.

It was time to revisit her arrival in London.

Slowly she began unwinding the memory. She started with the scratchy sheets of the hospital bed, then the firefighter carrying her through the burning rubble of Ethelburga Church. A moment later, she was reconstituting out of ash on the palace roof. She slowed down the mental images, studying F.U.’s agonized face, then the strange reverse carving of Emerzel’s sigil into her skin.

She wanted to know why she’d done this to herself, but in this memory she was merely an observer. She could watch each moment, see every detail, but she couldn’t feel the emotions. Even in her memories, she was keeping a distance. Why?

She scrolled back further. New memories began to unfold before her—memories she hadn’t seen before. F.U. sprinted backward through a door, into a dark stairwell. Down and down it wound, and she bounced backward down the stairs. F.U. was gasping for breath, tears streaming from her eyes. What had upset her?

F.U. burst through a door into a cacophony of screams and shrieking steel. Men were fighting, bleeding all around her. She was in the midst of some sort of battle. Looking down, she found the gold dagger in her hand as she ran backwards, moving into the battle. The reverse nature of the memory was disorienting as she dodged swords and halberds, moments before they swung over her head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of demonic wings beating the air—Abrax’s wings. Fear nearly sent her fleeing back to reality as she realized where she was. This was the beginning of the Battle of Mount Acidale—the throne room.

F.U. ducked down, falling to the floor, and began sliding in reverse under a table. Her hands reached for something, and Ursula nearly screamed at the sight of her mother’s corpse.

F.U. cupped her mother’s head in her hands. Red hair draped over Ursula’s shaking fingers, as her mum’s dead eyes stared at the underside of the table. Ursula nearly screamed again as they suddenly focused, and the corpse drew in a shaky breath.

“No, Mother. Stay…” she heard herself say. F.U.’s eyes were blurry with tears. She looked at her mother with an expression of abject horror.

Ursula could see the love in her mother’s eyes, and her mum reached up to touch her cheek. The memory twitched and jerked like an old silent film. F.U. leaned in as her mother whispered in her ear.

Then the memory went dark as if the film had run off the reel.

Ursula opened her eyes, gasping in the dark, quiet cell. Next to her, Zee continued to breathe softly.

Ursula’s mind raced. What had she just seen?

F.U. had been at the battle. She’d seen it in Bael’s memory, and now her own. She’d been at her mum’s side when she died. Was this what had sent her running from Mount Acidale? Did she know that King Midac would blame her too? Maybe her mum had told her to run. Those seemed reasonable possibilities. But why did she feel the need to rid herself of her memories? There was something more there she didn’t yet understand.

She was just considering whether to revisit the memory when the door burst open. Zee screamed, as Ursula blinked in the light. A figure stood in the doorway: a giant of a man, with shoulders that nearly spanned the doorframe. Bael? Ursula squinted.

No, the hair wasn’t right, not dark enough.

“I wish to speak to the queen-killer’s daughter,” Lucius’s voice boomed.