Neris frowns at me. “Good luck,” she whispers.
I leave her in my room and answer the door to Lynx. She tilts her head at me for a moment, and without any discussion, she grabs my shoulder and vanishes us away.
We touch down in the cold cells below where urine and other pungent odors flood my nose, and I hold my breath. Behind the metal bars ahead of me sits the man they all think is the ShadowWielder. He’s huddled near the wall, his body trembling, but he glances up at us with weary eyes.
“Well, get on with it,” Lynx says to a guard, gesturing toward the cell. The guard steps forward to unlock the gate, and the bars swing inward, allowing us entry. Anxiously, I follow Lynx into the cell.
Confusion marks the man’s sickly pale face, his brows scrunched above bloodshot eyes. Lynx nudges me forward roughly. I gather my skirts about me and crouch a small distance from the man—Tiernan, the Dreamwalker and the sovereign had called him. There’s a small cut on his right eyebrow, a trickle of dried blood down the side of his face. His lips are pressed together so firmly that they turn white.
Lynx clears her throat, and I recall the sovereign’s words.Convince him with the truth. Tell him what you’ve been through and the world you and the Zenith envision for this kingdom.
I inhale deeply. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am,” I say. “My powers, my desire to paint the world rather than rule it through affluence. My mother rarely allowed me to wear dresses with short sleeves lest others see the musclesunbecoming of a docile highborn. My only fate was to be married to another notable lord. I want nothing more than to live in a kingdom where people are allowed to be who they truly are. Where a person does not have to go to great lengths to rid themselves of their power only to live half a life for the rest of their existence.”
I pause, fighting to hold back tears.
Tiernan’s eyes narrow, his lips turned down. Despite his silence, I can tell he’s listening attentively, so I continue.
“The sovereign says he aims to create a world where Magekind and Ordinaries can live in harmony. Where people like you and me don’t have to hide. Where people like my friend, who has an ailment, don’t have to be afraid of being taken away from their loved ones. Or being persecuted or killed.”
Something softens in his expression, his uninjured brow raising slightly.
“Don’t you want a world like that? A world of balance?” I ask him.
He licks his lips and clears his throat. Then, with a scratchy voice that sounds like he’s not had anything to drink in ages, he says, “Yes. But Rheon is not the one who’s going to create such a world. He can burn in Lugda’s fires.”
I stare at him.
“He’s stringing you along like a puppet. He’ll make you forget who you are.”
The truth of his words stings.
Laughter rips through the tension. I stand upright again and glance at Lynx as she continues to cackle. “Predictable,” she spits out behind her veil. “Give up, little Terraforger. Tiernan is hopeless.”
I keep my eyes on him. “Would you prefer that they keep maiming you—that they take away your powers and likely destroy you in the process—rather than just joining the Zenith?”
His dark eyes do not even falter. “I will never relinquish my values for some delusional tyrant. I know who I am, and I refuse to play any part in his twisted schemes.”
I swallow, shame scraping my throat raw. I wish I had his strength. I wish I had the Dreamwalker’s strength. Oh, how I hope I can prove it’s not too late to grow a backbone, because soon, I will hopefully be getting Tiernan, Neris, and myself out of here.
When I turn and hurry out of the cell, Lynx begins to cackle again. “Oh, gods, this is top-notch entertainment. Who needs theater?”
I don’t turn to look at either her or Tiernan. I simply wait until she joins me outside the cell to jump me back to my room.
And give me time to think and prepare for the escape.
Once I’m back in my room, I change into my midnight blue Zenith uniform again and take to exploring the castle. As I’m walking past a corridor I’ve never dared to enter before, I hear voices whispering. I stop, pressing close to the wall to listen.
“Unpleasant effects are bound to happen, Sire.” The feminine voice sounds familiar, but before I can try to place it, the sovereign responds.
“Unpleasant effects, yes, but otherwise mundane. They are burning out too readily; it isn’t working.”
“Patience, Sire.”
The sovereign huffs. “I’m not sure how much more Lynx can take. If only we can find more with her skillset. Before I arrived here, the damn fools had Kenna Gallagher right in their grasp. How in hells did they let rebels break her out?” He makes a scoffing sound.
Kenna Gallagher?As in Murtagh’s daughter?
“I could’ve skinned every last one of them,” the sovereign continues. “If Carys hadn’t broiled them all like the dragon she was. Do we need to find her again? Or more like her?”
