I kept waiting to hear Bastien’s voice or feel him beside me, but after a long while, he still hadn’t appeared.
We continued descending deeper anddeeperinto the twisting passage. Tyson stopped and lifted his torch, illuminating a word that had been painted onto the crumbling bricks:
PEACE.
It was comforting to see that the people of the Lawless Lands valued peace. They had created these tunnels. They were open to negotiations with Bastien. Then, Tyson moved the torch, and three more words jumped to life: IS A LIE.
“It’s probably just kids who wrote it,” Tansy said with a laugh. But she leaned a little closer to me just the same. After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened up into a cavernous chamber with the kind of cathedral ceilings that belonged inside Château Rose, not a mile below a graveyard.
“Well, would you look at that,” Tyson said, holding up his torch so the light extended further.
My chest tightened around a half-drawn breath. “It’s a river,” I said. But instead of water, it was filled with a silvery substance that looked like mercury. The water, or whatever it was, moved, rushing toward an arch in the wall that was large enough for a small canoe to pass under.
“By Diana,” I breathed.
“Please don’t invoke the goddess right now,” Tansy said, half-teasing, half-serious.
I bit my lip. Saying and thinking her name was second nature. But down here, out of sight from the moon, I didn’t think she could hear me. However, Diana must leave her place in the sky every once in a while if she visits the Underworld to have children with Damien. Everything I’d ever been told, every story, was a lie. Tansy was right. I needed to stop invoking the goddess.
Cautiously, we walked closer to the river, where there were small wooden boats tied up along theedge, bobbing and colliding into one another in the current. I didn’t say it out loud, but something about the river feltalive.
Tyson abruptly turned, shining his light deeper into the cavern. “What in the…?”
Chapter 21
Déraper
CLAIRE
Ifroze, heart racing, as I turned toward the orange halo of light. In the far corner of the chamber was a cluster of shapes huddled together. Our group took a step forward, extending the light until it illuminatedchildren. Little knees were tucked to chests. Their red hair tangled. Their clothes hung off small frames.
They were watching us like we were monsters.
My heart broke for them. They were alone in this dark place. The oldest girl appeared to be no more than sixteen. Tansy’s fingers slipped into mine, and she squeezed hard. Her hand was ice-cold. I squeezed back harder.
“Stay with Miss Donadieu,” Tyson told Okeri. She positioned herself in front of Tansy and me with her sword drawn.
I waved off his concern. “I don’t need to be protected from children. They’re scared. That’s all.”
“My uncle would disagree,” he shot back. Tyson sheathed his sword and crouched beside the children.
Devlinn followed after him, already unstrapping thewaterskin from his belt. “Here,” he said softly. “Drink. You must be thirsty.”
The children flinched, and none reached for the water. Their eyes kept darting past him. Past Tyson. Like they were watching the dark for signs of life. Perhaps their parents or whoever was caring for them.
The oldest girl stood, a wand in one hand. It wasn’t the wand that scared me.But her eyes. There was something in them that didn’t belong to a child. Like someone had reached inside her and scooped her childhood clean out.
I knew that look, and the realization hit so hard it almost knocked the breath out of me.
It was the look formed by long nights alone, staring at the ceiling and wondering if the gods heard your prayers or if your voice just disappeared somewhere between your mouth and the sky. The kind of nights where you whisperedplease. Thenwhy. Then nothing at all. Because eventually you stopped asking for things to be different and started assuming you must deserve it.
It was the look you wore after being hit so many times they didn’t even have to raise their hand anymore to make you flinch. Your body just knew what to expect. It was the look that drew my least favorite question, “What’s the matter with you?”Like they had no responsibility for your inability to smile.
And worst of all, it was the look you wore when you started wondering if the world might be better off without you. When you caught yourself imagining how quiet everything would be if you just…weren’t here. If no one had to trip over you anymore. If no one had to sigh when you walked into a room. But you were too scared to do anything about it. Or maybe—on the better days—too hopeful. Too stubbornly, stupidly hopeful that something might change.
My throat tightened until swallowing hurt. I didn’t seethis girl as a threat. I saw a girl who had been raised on hate, the way other children were raised on bread and milk. Fed it every day until it was all she knew. Hate for herself. Hate for anyone who was different. Hate for the people who made her mother so angry. You blamed them for every beating you took. You hated so deeply that it became your armor. Your air.
And at the bottom of all her hate, I saw myself.
