Eight Will Fall, page 25
But was that her job?
The crystals began to dwindle until there were too few to light the way forward. Shadows were swallowed by darkness, and the ground leveled out. Larkin ran into a wall and, without thinking, siphoned Amias’s agony to destroy it.
As the dust settled, Amias inhaled deeply. “I know where we are. Smell that?”
Larkin inhaled, the scent of blood all too familiar.
“If you walk along the wall, you’ll find a sconce. Should be flint tucked behind it.”
Larkin walked down the wall until her fingers brushed something cold and sharp. She reached around the sconce, finding the flint and a half-burnt torch. She lit it, illuminating the empty space.
“Where are we?” Her voice echoed.
“The palace catacombs, parallel with the prisons,” said Amias. “You’ll need to help me. I can barely move.”
Larkin hurried to him, passing the torch. She tugged his arm over her shoulder, almost falling with his weight. We’re almost there, she thought.
They passed stone tombs, some open, others sealed. To the right, the floor dipped into a giant pit.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Don’t go over there,” he gasped.
Larkin didn’t question him further.
The place seemed uncared for, which she found strange. There was also no luminite. Things only grew stranger when they wove between the pyres and the torture racks. Now she understood where the scent of blood had come from, and why Amias was so familiar with this place.
This was where Ilona had brought him to practice destruction.
“Amias…”
“We’re almost there. See that passage up ahead?”
Larkin squinted, spotting a small alcove that she would have walked right by if she hadn’t known to look for it. When they reached it, Larkin groaned at the sight of more stairs.
“Leave me here.” Amias pushed himself away from her. “It’s a short flight. When you reach a trapdoor, knock four times rapidly. Pause only for a moment, and then do it again.”
She could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was falling apart faster than he could hold himself together.
“Are you sure we can trust her?”
“Please, Larkin,” he grunted. “Just go.”
Larkin left him, hurrying up the short flight of steps to an aged trapdoor. She took a deep breath, quickly knocked four times, paused a moment, and then knocked again.
She waited.
Larkin tried the door, but it was locked. Amias was wrong. Her stomach clenched in panic. Both of them were a mess, and surely by this point the queen knew Kyran was dead. Maybe the palace would be mostly vacated, all of the soldiers at the Reach’s entrance, waiting for them to return.
Larkin jumped at the sound of a loud thud above her. The trapdoor swung upward, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
The light. The pain.
She tried to peel her eyelids open, but they refused to cooperate. She stood up straight, wobbling on the step and scrambling for the door’s frame for support. Larkin blinked rapidly, hoping for her vision to adjust, but she only saw shapes.
Then the sharp edge of a blade grazed her throat.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Who in hells are you?” a woman asked, her voice discordant. “And where did you come from?”
Larkin winced as tears poured from her eyes. “Please…”
“Hela!” Amias cried from below.
“Amias?” the woman cried. “Gods!”
Larkin felt the blade disappear and she blinked frantically as her vision came back in patches. She followed the woman—Hela—back down into the darkness and, with her help, was able to haul Amias up and into the palace.
“Cover your eyes,” Larkin whispered to him as they entered the room.
“Have you been below all this time?” Footsteps sounded as the woman hurried across the room. Larkin heard the glide of chained curtains, and darkness fell across her eyelids. She blinked a few times—better, but not perfect. The blurred figure of the woman was hunched over a basin, squeezing out a cloth. She knelt next to Larkin.
“I can’t believe you survived the Reach.” Gently, the woman began cleaning Larkin’s face. The water was warm and felt sublime. She would have cried if she wasn’t weeping already.
“You know where we were?” Larkin focused on the dark eyes of the woman, and the splatter of freckles along her cheekbones. “Hela?”
Hela retreated back to the basin. “The queen maliciously told me where she sent Amias. Her way of toying with me.”
She returned and knelt near Amias, but when Larkin reached for the cloth, Hela smiled and offered it to her.
Larkin gently lifted Amias’s head and placed it on her lap. She passed the cloth over his face, wiping away the smears of blood. So much blood, not all of it his.
When she was finished, he remained still, watching her. His eyes were so tired, and she sensed the strangest mix of anguish and relief from him.
“We must be quiet. Silent,” Hela emphasized, standing to bar the door. “Now, how did you get from the Reach to here?”
Larkin exchanged a glance with Amias. Where was she supposed to start? “The Reach is beneath the palace.”
Hela frowned. “That can’t be…”
“The Reach is everywhere,” said Larkin. “Kyran had conjured his own throne room right beneath Melay’s.”
Hela’s shoulders sagged. “Of course he did.”
The tutor’s reaction felt strange to Larkin. “Did you believe he was a god? Because he isn’t.”
Hela was quick to respond. “I believe that Kyran was the most powerful Empath to ever live.” The corners of Hela’s mouth perked up as she watched Larkin carefully. “And I’m not naïve to the powers of magic.”
“What is happening, Hela?” Amias croaked.
Hela laughed, surprising Larkin. “Do you mean the state of this damned isle, or your chances of surviving the queen’s wrath?”
“The queen knows that Kyran is dead, doesn’t she?” Larkin asked.
Hela nodded. “She sent four battalions into the Reach to find you. Or any of you who were left. Are you the only two survivors?”
“Yes,” said Larkin.
“And you’re not Jacque, so you must be … Brielle? Elfina?”
“Larkin.”
Hela paled, her disbelief striking Larkin.
“You know,” Larkin said, suddenly unable to meet Hela’s eyes. “You know I’m his.”
“You knew all along, Hela?” Amias asked quietly. Larkin sensed something heavy stir within him. “Who we were?”
“Don’t look so betrayed.” Hela swiped the dirty cloth from Larkin’s hand. “I didn’t tell you because I was trying to protect you. A failed strategy, I know, but my intentions were good, I promise you.” Hela watched Larkin carefully. “If he’s dead, you’re in a very dangerous place, Larkin.”
“What of my brother, Garran?” Larkin asked. “Do you know where he is?”
“No,” Hela said. “I don’t know where Melay is holding him. But she’s holding your entire family.” She looked to Amias. “And yours.”
Amias’s dread roiled in Larkin, and Larkin felt her blood run hot. “I’ll kill her.”
Hela arched an eyebrow. “You do not mince words. You’re lucky I am not aligned with the queen.” The tutor glanced at the curtained window. “It may be best most of your family is locked within the prison. Safest. The remaining soldiers have been taking to the streets as of late. Many Empaths have died. I worry that Melay has decided she will no longer have mercy on any Empaths, now that Kyran has destroyed most of what she holds dear.”
“I need to help them! I’m the only one who can.” Kyran’s powers ran through her veins, begging to be used.
“I agree,” said Hela. “And I will keep you safe as we come up with a plan. Together.”
Larkin knew that she and Amias needed all the help they could get, but Hela worked for Ilona. Amias trusted her because Hela had taught him and had been kind to him. Still, Larkin wasn’t convinced of her desire to keep them safe.
“You have every right to be skeptical,” said Hela, sensing her. “I will prove to you that you can trust me. But first, you must be starving.” She walked to the door, simultaneously placing a finger to her lips. “Don’t make a sound.”
* * *
Hela brought back a sack of fruit, a loaf of bread, and a rind of cheese. Larkin ate ravenously, and Amias more slowly.
“I will heal,” he promised Larkin. “You’re trying to hide it, but I can sense your worry.”
“How did you…” Larkin glanced up at the luminite molding around the room and then back at Amias.
He shot her a sheepish grin. “When Tamsyn mentioned your resistance, I didn’t want to steal your glory. And I prefer to keep things close to the chest. But there was a reason Melay kept me in luminite chains in a dungeon by myself.”
“You should have said something!” she cried, thinking of the disciples. “You must be Leander’s descendant. He was trying to find luminite’s weakness … Perhaps he taught it to Kyran.”
Hela chuckled as she bit into an apple. “Leander? Of course not. Thaos Leander was a fool. He was in search of an alchemical remedy to luminite, not a magical one.” The tutor smiled gently. “Amias is Rahele Ekko’s.”
Larkin thought of what Tamsyn had told them. “Rahele was the disciple aligned with Ilona, wasn’t she?”
“She was,” Hela said. “Ilona chose her because of her skills, and her caution. She was thoughtful with her power.”
Something darkened within Amias. Larkin wondered if it was because Ilona had used him and his ancestor.
“I will tell you more about Ekko later,” said Hela, scooting to the edge of her bed. “But for now, I must understand what happened within the Reach. How did you survive?”
Amias opened his mouth.
“Amias,” Larkin said, cutting him off. Hela could turn around and tell Ilona everything.
“It’s all right, Larkin.” Amias turned to Hela and told their story. When he explained what had happened to Bianca, Hela was devastated. She was disturbed by what Kyran had done to the soldiers, and himself, but wasn’t surprised.
“He let you kill him because he wants you to kill the queen?”
“Because he wants me to kill Ilona,” said Larkin.
Hela visibly stiffened. She knew the truth about Melay, then.
“So you’ve helped keep her alive,” said Amias, hurt. “Even after what she did to me?”
Larkin sensed Hela’s shame. The tutor reached out and touched Amias’s arm. “Many of us have, over the years. I’m sorry, Amias—truly—but Ilona forced me into a position that would have cost me the lives of my family if I had said no. You must understand, the war between Kyran and Ilona has been a fine balance for a thousand years. I have spent my life terrified of what Kyran would do if Ilona died.”
“Kyran’s dead now,” Larkin said bitterly. “And Ilona…”
“Is still alive.” Hela sighed. “Which is why this opportunity to overpower her is so important. I swear to you I will keep you both as safe as possible until it is time to do so.” Hela stood. “Hide in the catacombs. I will have the servants pour me a bath while my room is vacant, and then you can wash up.”
They did as she said. When the bath was poured, Amias let Larkin go first.
She pulled the curtain around the tub and began to undress. The only armor she had left was one bracer, which she peeled off. At last, she sank into the warm water. She worked feverishly to scrub off the grime and blood from the Reach. It was caked in her hair, beneath her fingernails, threatening to mark her forever.
Eventually she was clean enough, and Hela brought her a simple linen tunic and trousers to change into. “I conjured these from memory, so I do hope they fit. If not, I suppose you have the skill to fix them yourself.” Hela glanced up at the room’s luminite molding, and then said, “I must attend to the queen, but I will be back tonight. Remember what I said about silence.” She then left them alone.
As Amias bathed, Larkin changed into the conjured clothes. She studied her hands, calloused and cracked and bloodied. Even though she’d worked in the mines her entire life, she did not recognize these hands. These were worn hands.
A beam of light caught on her clothes. She followed it to the slit between the curtains.
The sun.
Larkin walked to the window and peeled back the curtain, blinded, the sun as hot as she remembered it. The light bathed her, drying the water from her hair, burning off the last droplets from her skin. She smelled the resin of pine, pungent and sugar-sweet.
Hela’s window faced not the city, but the western edge of the isle. Larkin spotted the ribbon of blue ocean along the horizon. She lifted her hand, pointing one finger. So close, she could almost touch it.
What would happen to her if Ilona was overpowered? Would her family travel to a farm near the sea? Would she have the choice to never spend another moment in a mine again? There would be no edicts, no rules. She could have a surname, if she wanted one. Most of her lineage was burned up with the registry, but Larkin could create her own. Something that sounded nothing like Kyran.
And perhaps after Amias was reunited with his mother and Skye, would he come with her?
She heard him pull back the curtain, and turned around. He stood behind her wearing only his trousers, water speckling his chest.
The sight of him stunned her. Dark marks marred his body from where Kyran had punctured him, scars from the moment she thought she would lose him. Her eyes landed on one peeking out from over his hip bone, and she flushed.
Amias watched her with curiosity, and she knew that he was trying to sense her emotions. But what was she feeling, exactly? Her heart was racing, and her stomach had twisted itself into a knot.
She wasn’t sure what the emotion was, but she liked the way she felt, and what she was beginning to sense from him. She wanted more of it.
The flecks of water on his shoulders glinted in the light, reminding her of the crystals that had guided them so often in the Reach. For the first time, the memory didn’t bring her dread, or sadness, but hope.
Bianca had been wrong. There was light in this world. Larkin had found it in the darkest places, where she thought there could be none at all.
“I need to tell you something,” Amias said as she stepped toward him. “Melay—Ilona—came to me before we were sent to the Reach. She told me that if I kept an eye on the group, and made sure we didn’t stray, she would let me go free.”
Larkin stopped, glancing up. Water trickled down the curve of his cheek, and she fought the urge to kiss it off his face.
Instead, she whispered, “So you’re the spy.”
His lip twitched, and she sensed his relief. Was he expecting that she would be mad at him? “It’s not like you had a choice. None of us did. Not when she threatened our families.”
“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t ready to talk about Melay, or about the hold she had over me. The way she broke me.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Larkin reached out and gently ran her finger down his chest. His breath hitched, and she sensed the same strange emotion she had sensed when they were in the Reach—a spark dissolving into a whirlpool.
She could name it now: desire. And she wasn’t ready for it to leave her.
She held her breath as he dipped his head, his lips against her neck, teeth grazing her skin. Her body was flint against a blade. A shower of sparks when his lips found her jaw. Again, when they were against her own.
Larkin soaked up every warm, bright tendril he emitted, his light filling her with an understanding of what this was. More than parted lips and slick skin. More than her own desire and beating heart at the top of the world.
They broke away from each other, breathing heavily.
What if they left? What if she could find Garran and free him without Ilona ever finding out, and they escaped, leaving her to her damned city, her damned isle? They could gather their families and find safe passage to the mainland. A place where she knew no one and no one knew her. A place where they could start over.
Amias kissed her again, drawing her back to the moment. It was a fantasy, but this—this kiss, and everything she sensed pouring from him …
This was real.
“Is this all right?” he asked against her lips.
“Please, gods,” she breathed.
He gently tugged at the waistband of her trousers and dragged his calloused thumb along her stomach. His desire escalated into something brighter, faster, something strong enough to coax a moan from Larkin.
It wasn’t her own ecstasy that threatened her control. It was his, and she wanted nothing more than to drown in it.
They spent the evening tangled between borrowed blankets. As Amias bent over Larkin, she touched him, memorizing the places that sparked the deepest desire as he kissed her shoulders, her collarbone, the space between the cleft of her ribs. The tips of her fingers and toes hummed with the brightness that poured from him, and the sensation of his lips against her skin.
She’d be damned if this was the last time she sensed Amias like this. As luxurious as this felt, Larkin knew that she needed him.
* * *
Over the next few days, Larkin and Amias anxiously waited in Hela’s room as the tutor brought them food and news of the outside.
“You can’t battle Ilona’s armies by yourself, Larkin,” Amias said as he paced the floor, wincing slightly as he walked.
Larkin sat on the edge of Hela’s bed as the tutor pored over maps of the city at the room’s small table.
“I can,” said Larkin. “I just haven’t before.”
Hela looked up from her map. “Fighting an army single-handedly isn’t something to attempt lightly. You’ll need to kill. Are you comfortable with that?”
