Worry clamped my chest as Harthon’s words sank in. If what he said was true, Koerlyn and his men were far closer to my village than any of us ever thought, and if Koerlyn didn’t respect boundaries, what would stop him from doing to our village what he did to his own?
I needed to get to Merelda and get far, far away from that place as soon as I could.
“Are those scouts the ones who stabbed her?” I asked, trying to quell my rising panic. If Harthon suspected my worries about my home, he’d know how motivated I was to leave and make it that much more difficult to escape.
“I doubt it. Considering themagvisappeared outside of the Domus alone, it seems more like an escape than a vacation supported by Centralis. Somehow, her oath of ownership to the king must have been broken, and I imagine someone inside tried to stop her before she made it to the tunnels.”
I couldn’t blame themagvisfor making a run for it. If I was destined to stay isolated in a cell, only to be used for kings’ power-hungrywhims, I would also run, no matter my importance.
“So why do I have her eyes?”
“Donon forced themagvisinto another oath to ensure the path to the tunnels would never be lost or forgotten. Whether through birthing anothermagvisor other methods, themagviswas to transfer knowledge of the tunnels to another being before dying. Considering themagvisdied just after touching you, it appears that you were that being, Etarla, and your eyes reflect your ability to see the route.”
Disbelief numbed any sort of outburst I should have had. “But I don’t know where the tunnel entrance is.”
“Whether you’re aware of it or not, you do.”
“I don’t,” I repeated. When themagvischanged my eyes, all I saw was light and a glowing pattern of tree roots. Not an entrance, not an exit, not any sort of route. I’d walked away completely unchanged, except for the appearance of my eyes.
But my denial did nothing to deter him because he simply asserted, “As unbelievable as it may sound, you now have the knowledge that can take us into the Domus. It’s buried somewhere in your mind, but it’s there.”
“I do not know how to enter the Domus. Skies, I don’t even know if any of this is true, or if you’re just…just crazy.”
His body tensed. “You know themagviswas real. You saw her with your own eyes. You know that she had to be that being that put up those walls, and you know that she changed your eyes just before vanishing and dying from her wounds. For the rest of it, I have proof. A letter from King Donon’s advisor, Therion.”
No. There was no way.
I wasnotthe one being in these lands who knew the way into the Domus. I wasnotthe pawn that Harthon or any other Princeps would use to reclaim what Centralis had in order to rule over the Territories.
My chest constricted, and I shot to my feet, agitation turning tofiery anger. “You’re wrong. I donotknow the way into Centralis—but even if I did, I’m not leading you into the Domus. I am not an instrument for Princepes to use in their games of power. I am anobody, and you don’t get to go and make me into a kingmaker.”
In one fluid, graceful motion, Harthon rose. The fine, ebony clothing molded to his form only made him seem more impassable as he towered over me. He lowered his chin. “Is that an order, Etarla?” The soft question was all sharp edges and spikes.
But the anger boiling within me refused to heed any warning he gave. I steeled my shoulders. “Interpret it however you wish,Harthon.I am simply telling you the truth about who I am and what I will or will not do.”
Ever so slowly, one side of his lips curled.
Finally, awareness began to trickle past the wall of violent emotion.
“While I can appreciate the spirit behind your defiance, you’re wrong.” He took a small step forward, crowding me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his churning gaze. “You do know the route. You’ll see tomorrow, when I show you proof of what you’ve become.” Those lips widened into a razor-sharp grin. “And youwilllead me into the Domus. While I hope it will be with your willing support, it will happen regardless.”
It was both a threat and a promise from the most formidable Princeps in the Territories.
Dread smothered any remaining flames of anger, leaving me feeling sick.
I wouldn’t have a choice. If what he said was true, I would be responsible for upheaving the current order, potentially making this man into a king. I was only twenty-two, for Domus’ sake. I was no child, but I wasn’t nearly old enough to have a responsibility likethis.
Blood drained from my face, and the walls in my periphery fuzzed into a smear of tan. I went hot, then cold, and then a swarm of blackspotted my vision as my throat tightened. I blinked hard, but nothing cleared.
“Take a breath.” The low rumble only made the sensations more chaotic.
I was vaguely aware of Harthon stepping in close and grasping my waist before lowering me into the chair. A large hand encircled my nape as I bent forward, fighting the lightheadedness.
“Breathe slowly,” he instructed, lips somewhere by my ear.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I filled my lungs once, then twice, that hand on my neck grounding me. It should have felt threatening, having his fingers touching my throat like that, but it didn’t.
“I just need more food,” I mumbled as the spots abated.
