Chapter 18

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

We makeit halfway through the main training space before I start crying.

“What did I just do?” I wail, looking at the severed hand I’m carrying. I toss it, aching to distance myself from the ugly thing.

“You just murdered a guy and cut his hand off,” Dash deadpans.

My arms tremble, and tears slide down my cheeks as I look at Jamell’s hand.

My old friend.

Trainer.

Mentor.

But he wasn’t any of that really, was he? His thoughts betrayed him, and he betrayed me. But is that justification for taking his life?

The tears that cascade down my cheeks aren’t just for Jamell. I can’t help but think of Gianna and Chancy. Those poor girls. Perhaps I am as bad as Mother is. I’m a monster, just like her.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhhh.” Dash pulls me into his arms. My head rests on his chest. His heart beats wildly beneath my cheek. “Why exactly are you crying?”

He knows my emotions are on the fritz, that burning fury can give way to crippling despair without warning, so why is he asking such inane questions?

“Because I just killed him! I can’t handle you being angry at me on top of that!” Goddess save me.

The hysteria overflows, and my body shakes violently as I sob against him.

“I’m not angry at you,” he says.

“But that’s three. That’s three now.” Three people I’ve killed today.

Despite my blubbering, Dash cups my wet cheeks in his hands, tilting my head up to look at him.

“You. Did. What. You. Had. To. Do. Do you hear me?” He speaks each word slowly, as if he’s attempting to brand the message into my skull.

“I couldn’t stand the way you looked at me after Gia and Chancy,” I whisper.

He furrows his brow. “And how exactly do you think I looked at you?”

“With pity. You pitied me. Felt sorry for me.”

A soft chuckle leaves him, and he brushes my forehead softly with his lips. He lingers there, and his warm breath caresses my face as he speaks. “No I didn’t. I regretted not being there when you needed me.”

“You can’t always be there for me.”

“No, I can’t,” he says, surprising me with his honesty. I’d half expected him to share a white lie. To tell me he’d always be there for me. His truthfulness only endears him to me further. “That’s why I need you to be strong—for you. You will be a strong queen, Astrid. And nothing will change that.”

“Do you know of any queens who go around murdering her friends?” I continue crying as he wipes away my tears for the second time today.

“You’re strong enough to make impossibly difficult decisions, and you make them with the people you care about in mind. You’ll be the most incredible leader.” He rubs my back tenderly, working to diffuse the bomb inside of me. After a few minutes, he pulls back, running his thumb over my lip and leaning in to plant a soft kiss there.

“Maybe I’ve been feeding you the wrong line. Instead of thinking about the queen you will become, think about the queen you already are. This is your war—your time to prove your mother and everyone else who doubted you wrong. To stand up and fight for your people.”

Something inside of me clicks at Dash’s words. He’s right. This is war.

And I am not a vessel.

Not a princess.

Not a puppet.

None of the labels thrust upon me define me.

I am Astrid Lucille Sylano, and I finally have a chance to step into my own skin without being held back.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Now we keep moving forward.” Dash retrieves the amputated hand from where I tossed it before beckoning me over to the pit’s door. “Comes in handy.” He waggles Jamell’s lifeless fingers at me before pressing the flesh flat against the enchanted stone. The stone gives, loosening at the edges enough for us to push the door open and enter the dim space.

“You might think your jokes help, but they don’t,” I say in a delayed response. My heart pounds at being ensconced in silenxstone, but I’ll be glad when it silences my power and quells the frenzy inside of me.

“Hurry.” Dash pulls me inside as the thick door closes behind us.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Dash staring at me. “What?”

“I’m proud of you, that’s all,” he says.

“For being unhinged?”

“For being a badass who doesn’t let anything stop her.” He kisses my nose and grips my hand, interlacing our fingers. Together we move down the stone stairs, following three curves before planting our feet on a floor similar to limestone but with a deeper blue finish.

Silenxstone.

It’s like a dungeon down here. The corridor is wide but low and made entirely of stone. The few sconces along the wall flicker, casting a dim, orange glow. About twenty feet away, the corridor takes a sharp turn to the left.

I shudder. I can’t believe a space like this exists beneath the palace. It’s dark, damp, and cool. The lower temperature is likely due to how deep beneath the earth we are. Considering how strict Mother is about her aesthetics, I’m surprised she allows such a disturbing place to exist in her palace.

Dash clears his throat dramatically, and I flinch.

“Shhh!” I hiss. It’s like he’s trying to attract attention. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little, Princess.” He readies himself, adopting a combative stance as I slowly back up toward the stairs. With another bellowing ahem, he calls out, “Come play, you swine!”

The pounding of boots on stone echo through the corridor, building in intensity as someone draws near. Whoever it is, they haven’t come into sight yet, but it sounds like there are two people, and they must be close to rounding the corner.

Dash grips a dagger unconventionally in each hand—the blade between his thumb and forefinger. Two guards burst into sight, but before they can fully register us, Dash hurls the blades through the air at them. The daggers spin, handle over blade, before finding their marks in the guards’ throats.

It’s an impressive move.

The guards drop to the floor as blood squirts out in steady streams from their necks. Despite how gruesome it is, I’m in awe of Dash’s display.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“I wasn’t judging you earlier. Just because killing isn’t my first choice, it doesn’t mean I’m above it.”

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

“I told you I’d teach you a few tricks. You only have to ask.”

It’s something I will definitely take him up on later. I never thought he was bluffing about his skills, but it’s one thing to hear about it and another to see it in action.

“There are only two guards down here?” I ask skeptically.

Pausing with his head tilted, he waits a few moments before nodding. “Yes. The silenxstone and pit door are the main lines of defense. Your mother is too vain to waste guards down here. She’d rather station them up there around her.”

“It feels too easy.”

“This is the simple part. Getting all of us out alive is the challenge.” He points to the ceiling, to where the training rooms lie above.

“Maybe if we’re lucky it’ll stay empty.”

“If only everything went according to plan.” He chuckles. “That blonde guard with the braid looked like she was up to no good. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran right to Enira. A friend is setting up a distraction, but she can only borrow so much time for us.”

A friend?

She?

Is he referring to the mysterious, curly-haired girl that sneaked out of his room?

With everything going on, I forgot about her.

Jealousy claws at my stomach again—a sensation I’m still not used to—but this time I can’t blame my erratic magic. Not within the silenxstone. No, this time the jealousy is all mine.

“Sure” is all I manage to spit out.

I’ve tried to keep Dash out of my heart, but he’s wiggled his way in. During our short time together, I’ve developed real feelings for him. I’ve never been drawn to someone like this, and that scares me almost as much as everything else going on.

Dash calls out for his family as we move down the corridor, stepping over the dead guards and the pools of slick, rust-colored liquid beneath them. He stops to snatch up a ring of skeleton keys and then retrieves his daggers, wiping the blades clean on one of the guard’s uniforms before sheathing them.

“Zale!?” he yells. “Ma? Pa?”

“Dashiel!” Joccelyn calls back.

Following her voice, we tread deeper into the dank tunnels. The space opens up, revealing a dozen cages.

The cells are built into the silenxstone, with rust-worn bars comprising three of the sides. The room is decrepit and reeks of urine and other foul odors I don’t care to dwell on. With only enough space to stand or sit, each prisoner is cruelly restricted within their cage.

The Vannyks haven’t been down here long—a few hours at most—and they appear unscathed.

That’s more than I can say for the other three prisoners. Two skeletons, long forgotten, lie in cages off to the left. Another prisoner, in the cage next to Zale’s, shifts around in the shadows.

“What took you so long?” Zale hisses, warranting a foul look from his father. “I thought you’d come quicker.”

“Oh please, brother. We came as quickly as possible.” Dash flashes me a sly smile, and I sigh at his crude implication. His humor seriously has the worst timing lately. I’d also rather him not make puns about our sex life in front of his parents.

Zale groans, but luckily his parents seem to miss the innuendo.

“You brought the princess,” Joccelyn says. Her tone is kind, but she eyes me warily as Dash fiddles with the lock on his father’s cage.

“She’s everything we hoped she’d be and more,” Dash says. I’m glad the lighting is poor enough to hide my blush.

“Princess?” A deep voice calls out from the other cage. Goosebumps rise on my arms. I ignore the prisoner, wishing Dash would hurry up as he lets his mother and brother out next.

“Mission accomplished,” he says when his family is free. He strides over to me and rubs the small of my back. Joccelyn’s eyebrow quirks knowingly before she turns away and whispers something to her husband.

“Your newfound friendship is cute and all, but maybe save it for later, eh?” Zale says with a scowl, picking off invisible bits of lint from his sleeves. Clearly he’s displeased by the imprisonment. If I thought he was unpleasant before, he’s even more so now. “No offense, Astrid.”

“None taken,” I say dryly.

“He’s cranky because he missed his snack time,” Dash says.

“Maybe if you two weren’t so busy doing whatever took so—”

“Boys,” Joccelyn calls wearily. I almost chuckle at how normal the two brothers seem as they bicker, even down here in the creepy dungeon.

“—ife?” The low voice calls out again. “Princess?” I’m not sure what the prisoner said, but something about his tone grabs my attention. Everyone else continues to ignore him, talking in hushed tones about the plan for escape. I take a few steps toward the cage.

“Leave him,” Dash warns, reaching out for me.

I brush him off, stepping closer to the cage. Within the dim, flickering light, I can barely make out the man’s features. It’s impossible to tell his age. Dark hair hangs loosely around his shoulders, and a thick beard covers half his face. None of the men wear their beards that long on Hakran due to the heat. Which means either this man isn’t Hakranian, or he’s been down here long enough that his beard has grown out. Maybe both? His clothing, nothing more than soiled torn rags now, hangs from his body in tatters.

When I look into his eyes, I gasp. Even in the poor illumination, they’re unbelievably green—piercing, pleading. A jolt of electricity surges through me, drawing me to him.

I don’t know what it is—he’s a stranger, after all, and in a terrible state—but there’s some sort of charge in the air between us.

“How long have you been down here?” I ask.

He growls and shakes his head. “No,” he whispers through cracked, bloodied lips.

“No, what?” I cock my head, trying to understand what he means. He must be delirious. He’s probably starving, maybe even sick.

“We need to go,” Dash says, grabbing my arm. His family’s footsteps are retreating down the main corridor, and I know it’s time to move.

“We can’t just leave him behind!”

“We don’t know why Enira has him down here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snap back, gesturing to the green-eyed man, who watches us with open interest. “I don’t trust her, and I don’t care to be like her.”

Dash sighs, cracking his knuckles before turning to the man. “Don’t bullshit me. Why’d she throw you in here?”

“The queen—she—” A dry, rattling cough overwhelms him. His eyes flicker to me. “You are nothing like that rotten woman.”

Gianna’s last moments flash through my mind.

Then Chancy’s.

Followed by Jamell’s face.

I shake my head. I’m just like her. But the prisoner’s words hit me with maximum impact, and I almost believe him. Desperate to cling to anything—or anyone—that separates me from my mother, I snag the ring of keys from Dash.

“You could’ve just asked,” Dash says in a flat voice as I fiddle with the lock.

“You would’ve said no.”

“Unlikely. I’d give you anything you want, Astrid.” The words are barely above a whisper, but they strike me as if he had yelled them. My cheeks heat, and I work to open the strange man’s cage.

“Astrid?” the prisoner asks with confusion.

“That’s Princess Astrid to you,” Dash says authoritatively. “And very soon queen.”

Dash and I help the weak man out of the cage and let him lean on us as we trudge back through the corridors to where the Vannyks wait.

He smells awful, and I try not to gag at the stench. He’s much taller than me but a few inches shorter than Dash. We struggle to find a rhythm to our gait.

How long has he been down here?

We stop to snag an aethyn water pouch from where it’s clipped to one of the dead guard’s belts, and the prisoner guzzles it greedily.

“Oh what the hell is this?” Zale asks when he sees us. Despite his apparent exasperation, he surprises me by taking the weight of the prisoner off my shoulders, gripping the stranger around the middle, and proceeding with Dash to get the man up the stairs. The gesture showcases the goodness of his heart, but it’s almost ruined by him saying, “I’m going to smell like sewage now.”

King Emman looks between Dash and the stranger and shakes his head. Joccelyn smiles softly, as if she’s unsurprised at the sight of her sons helping a dirty, dying prisoner during the worst of times.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave him and just come back for him later?” Zale asks.

“There might not be an opportunity,” Dash says at the same time I say, “Absolutely not.”

Sadness fills me at the thought of the two prisoners who clearly died a long time ago.

Did they deserve to die? Knowing Mother, it’s unlikely.

They were surely loved by someone, missed by someone.

At least we can save this one man.We can prevent him from turning to dust.That’s a small comfort. I refuse to leave him behind.

“Your mother and I will exit first,” King Emman says to the boys, snapping me out of my thoughts. “We’ll cast our power and release anyone nearby of the Dead Queen’s mental grasp. As we free our guards, we’ll keep them close. Some of the Hakranian guards might join our cause, too, but don’t count on it. Plenty will be loyal to the queen even without her manipulation.”

“What’s your plan for my mother?” I ask. The prisoner mutters something about “mother,” but I don’t pay him any attention.

“Without her magic, she’s nothing. Just a woman,” Emman says. “We need to find her and get her down here in the pit to fully silence her power.”

“How did she get you down here?” I ask. Silence fills the air. Joccelyn smiles at me.

“The guards came during dinner,” she says. “Enira dislikes us around, for obvious reasons. It was only a matter of time before she tried to exert her power over us.”

“Make no mistake,” Emman says. “We let them take us.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask, shocked at the admission.

“To see the pit for ourselves and ensure the silenxstone was real,” Emman says. “We need confidence in our plan to go after Enira, and that means learning everything we can about the island. Including her weapons, defenses, and dungeons.”

“They weren’t in any real danger with me on the outside,” Dash says. “Plus, we have you too.”

“Stupid plan,” Zale mutters as he eyes the stone in distaste.

Emman sighs at his son before saying, “We also needed a valid cause to start this war. A stronger reason than suspicion of or dislike for Enira. She struck first by imprisoning us. Now our strike back will be considered defensive. We can forcibly remove her from Hakran’s throne without sacrificing our own rule in Stellaris.”

Dash agrees with him, then offers me a soft smile that holds a mixture of sorrow and comfort. I don’t have the heart to return it, so I nod solemnly. It might be my mother they’re talking about, but I need to protect my people. They don’t deserve to be Enira’s puppets. This might be their only chance at true freedom, at gaining their free will back.

Eyeing the thick, black door standing between us and the wickedness beyond, I try to prepare myself. We stand wordlessly, breathing heavily, no one making the first move to open the door.

I might have the Vannyks by my side to protect me from Mother, but nothing can protect me from me. I brace myself for the potentially disastrous storm brewing inside of me, the one that will beg for release as soon as I step outside the silenxstone pit.

Once those doors open, I’m walking into two wars.