Hopefully, the goddess understands why I mark each twist and turn. My time spent down here years ago taught me well. It only took getting lost among the bones once for me to carefully mark every path after that.
I end up at a few dead ends, doubling back more than once. Frustrated, I return to my last marker and wonder what I’m doing wrong. I should have found something familiar by now.
Unless these catacombs don’t connect to the ones under the city. I thought they all connected, but what if these are royal catacombs?
I turn toward an opening cut into stone where a skeleton lies with its arms folded over its chest. Under its bony hands is a gold crown.
This whole thing could be prevented if the royals gave one damn about their people. Better yet, if they never existed at all. If not for them, I wouldn’t be here pretending to be one of them. I’d be with my family, who would still be alive. I’d have friends and a home. The rebellion wouldn’t exist. I sure as fuck wouldn’t bein a dark catacomb with the bones of the dead while still covered in someone else’s blood.
I reach for the skeleton and throw it to the ground, then I start kicking at the bones, sending them flying in every direction.
These royals with their magic. “Magic can’t help you when you’re dead, can it?”
I pick up the skull and stare at the vacant holes that used to be eyes. “What did you see? What did you do to maintain your life in luxury while your people starved?” There is no way these royals were any better than the ones who came after.
I throw the skull as hard as I can, and it hits the ground, then bounces, then rolls before coming to a stop. The vacant eyes stare at me, as if judging me. “You deserved that.”
That’s when I hear laughter. Howling, cackling laughter. Coming from the same direction where I threw the skull.
Nobody spends time in the City of the Dead besides rebels and bandits. Right now, I am willing to take my chances with either in order to get this message out.
I walk slowly toward the sound, but the closer I get, the farther away it seems. I take a couple of turns, marking my way, as I follow the sound. Then, it stops. I hear nothing.
Discouraged, I consider turning around. I’ve been down here so long my bath will be cold. If someone checks on me, they’ll know I am gone.
Then, I see it.
A little star carved into the stone. A rebel mark, a way of showing the path through. My heart leaps, and I move faster, looking for the stars as I continue. I think I recognize where I am, but so much of the catacombs looks the same, so it’s hard to tell.
Light shines ahead, and I set my lamp down in an alcove, so it’ll hopefully be there when I return.
A ladder leads to a grate. I climb, then shove the grate aside and peer out.
I’m in the city. Silk Row, to be exact. Just a few blocks away from the Point.
I’m in an alleyway, and fortunately, nobody else is here except for a skinny cat, who runs as soon as she sees me.
A raven lands on a pile of trash nearby and caws, locking its endless black eyes on me.
I stare back. “I’m not sorry.”
The bird cocks its head, as if saying something.
“Whoever those bones belonged to, they deserved it.”
The bird flaps its wings, then seems to nod before it flies away silently.
I think I encountered one of Mara’s ravens. And she agreed with me.
The interaction sends a rush of confidence through me, and I stand straighter as I walk out of the alley. Drunks are stumbling around, and a few couples in nicer dress walk arm in arm.
By day, Silk Row is lined with tents selling luxuries I could never afford. The kind of stuff I’m surrounded by daily now in the castle. The shops are temporary, though, and by night, the taverns open and welcome in a different kind of guest.
It’s been a while since I had to rendezvous with anyone from the rebellion. I spent the last few months avoiding them at all costs, and I am not sure if they still frequent the same places.
Hoping that some of the old members might visit the Screaming Goat, I make my way to the tavern.
It’s hazy with smoke inside, and my slippers stick to the floor. I weave through the crowd, and every head turns as I walk by. It’s the first time I’ve been in here with my hair uncovered. I’m the only blonde in the tavern, and all eyes follow me.
